


Reunion

by starborn_scribe (HowNovel)



Category: Starman (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2000-10-05
Updated: 2000-10-05
Packaged: 2017-10-25 21:52:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 27,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/275209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HowNovel/pseuds/starborn_scribe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>2001 Fan Quality Award Winner</p><p>For nearly a year Paul, Jenny, and Scott had enjoyed a safe and mostly normal existence in Madison, Wisconsin. Jenny, Paul, and Scott's girlfriend Melany have found their niches in art, photography, and medicine. With high school behind him, a new sister due in September, and an encounter with the unexpected, Scott's life is in flux once again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reunion

Disclaimer

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters are fictional, and any resemblance of the characters to actual persons is coincidental and unintentional. This work is based on the movie Starman and the television series of the same name. This is a not-for-profit publication and is not intended to infringe on copyrights held by ABC-TV, Henerson-Hirsch, Michael Douglas Productions, and Columbia Pictures.

###  **Introduction**

This short story is based on the 1986 TV series "Starman" which was based on the 1984 John Carpenter movie with the same name. The following synopses of the movie and TV series are from the Spotlight Starman International (SSI) website, http://www.starmanet.com .

 

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STARMAN began as a 1984 movie directed by John Carpenter, about an extraterrestrial [Jeff Bridges] coming to Earth after encountering our Voyager II probe. He found himself being chased by the military (George Fox [Richard Jaeckel] and Mark Shermin [Charles Martin Smith]), and aided by a young human woman named Jenny Hayden (played by Karen Allen). He ultimately found his way home. But not before fathering a child....

In 1986, a television series, based on the movie, premiered on the US ABC network (and later, in other countries). In it, the Starman [Robert Hays] returned to heed a call for help. He found the caller, Scott Hayden [Christopher Daniel Barnes], who was the result of his lovemaking with Jenny Hayden. He then assumed the form of a notorious photographer named Paul Forrester.

Scott and Paul soon found themselves travelling across the country, avoiding George Fox [Michael Cavanaugh] and Agent Wylie/Wiley [Patrick Culliton], and trying to find Scott's mother, Jenny, so that they could be a family. Along the way, they helped many people have better lives.

 

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The series ran a full season, all 22 episodes, but was canceled by ABC network. A fan campaign soon started and is still extremely active today.

Earlier this year I discovered the SSI website and was surprised to find the volume of fan fiction that has been written since the show was canceled in 1987. Through the SSI website I found Melinda Young's Starman trilogy. The three stories that comprise it are engaging and well written - and the background to "Reunion".

Fortunately, Melinda provides synopses of the three stories on her website, which I've included below.

"The Homecoming" © 1988 Melinda Young

In their continuing quest to find Jenny Hayden, Paul and Scott travel to her hometown of Madison, Wisconsin in search of her family. Instead, to their surprise, they find the family of the elder Scott Hayden. Young Scott is torn between his feeling that this isn't his "real" family and his yearning to find some sort of connection with this only link to his mother. He is particularly drawn to his grandmother, Mary Hayden, a complex woman who seems to know a lot more than she'll say. When George Fox follows them to Madison, the mettle of Paul and all the Haydens is put to the test. (Approx. 15,000 words)

"Alone" © 1989 Melinda Young

Paul accepts a photo assignment in Nebraska to capture illegal toxic dumpers in the act. But when it goes dangerously wrong, Paul is nearly killed and winds up in a halfway house in Oregon with traumatic memory loss, while Scott must take refuge with friends of Mary Hayden's in rural Wisconsin. As Paul struggles to regain his memory, Scott must fight the demons of his anger and self-doubt while trying to stay clear of the county sheriff, who has taken a paternal interest in this troubled youth. (Approx. 45,000 words)

"Out in the Open" © 1991 Melinda Young

A chance encounter with Mark Shermin, the man who helped Starman escape 18 years earlier, leads to disaster when Shermin turns his interview tapes with Paul into a book about a Starman on Earth — and the book becomes a wildly popular best seller. With aliens on everyone's mind and tabloid newspapers hot on their trail, Paul and Scott discover that they have nowhere to hide. From familiar haunts in Seattle and Wisconsin, to the desert mountains of Arizona and the high plains of Montana, Paul and Scott find themselves on the last leg of an epic journey that will thrust Scott into a painful reconciliation with his inheritance and bring them tantalizingly close to the family reunion they've sought for so long — and change them and the lives of those around them forever. (Approx. 160,000 words)

 

"Reunion" opens in Madison, Wisconsin in July 1990, about eight months after the close of Melinda Young's "Starman" trilogy. You'll need to know a few more things to follow the story. Some of these are spoilers for Melinda's trilogy, so consider yourself warned!

"The Homecoming" and "Alone" introduce several members of Scott's extended family. Mary and Hank Hayden are Scott Hayden, Sr.'s parents. In the movie, Starman had cloned the elder Scott Hayden's body. Therefore Mary and Hank are "biologically" Scott's paternal grandparents. After Starman left Earth after his initial visit Jenny told the Haydens everything. During the course of the trilogy Hank and Mary come to accept and help Paul and Scott.

Kurt and Imtraud Keitzer are key characters in "Alone". The Keitzers are good friends of Mary's who emigrated from Germany. They harbored Scott at their farm in rural Rockland, Wisconsin while Paul was missing, knowing only that Scott was Mary's grandson. The kindly couple had also taken in another troubled teenager, Evan Pierce, years earlier. Evan is their foster son for all intents and purposes, and was the county sheriff. Evan is a very curious and open-minded man. He and Scott hit it off right away, much to Scott's chagrin. The Keitzers, Evan, and his fiancée Stephanie eventually learn and accept Paul and Scott's background. Evan was forced to resign his post as sheriff due to the actions he took to protect Scott from Fox.

In "Out in the Open" Scott spent several months working on a ranch and attending high school in Bowman, Montana. In this time he met and began to fall for one of his classmates, a 16 year old girl of Crow descent named Melany Parsons. Melany is intelligent, strong-willed, but painfully shy. Her home life was nearly as unstable as Scott's. She had been abandoned by her mother, never knew her father, and was grudgingly raised by her abusive grandmother. Despite their mutual attraction, both Melany and Scott deliberately avoided a relationship for their own reasons. Melany helped Scott avoid capture and flee Bowman. During their escape Scott was forced to reveal his half-alien heritage and tell Melany about his fugitive status due to Shermin's book and the long-standing arrest warrants from the FSA. After her initial fearful reaction she accepted Scott. Melany chose to leave Montana behind and travel with Scott to Wisconsin. During their journey they realized their feelings for each other.

While Scott was in Montana, Paul searched northern Wisconsin for Jenny. He found her, and after an encounter with Fox, Paul, Jenny, and Scott were reunited. "Out in the Open" concludes with the warrants for Paul, Scott, and Jenny rescinded, the fallout from Mark Shermin's book cleared, Melany living in Rockland with the Keitzers, and the new family in a nice house in suburban Madison.

Got all that? Good. Now please enjoy "Reunion."

###  **Chapter 1: Coda**

A small galaxy of yellow, red, blue, and white lights danced just above the dark rippling surface of Lake Mendota. The running lights of the Hayden's inboard motorboat made up six members of the earthly constellation. Paul and Jenny, Scott and Melany, Evan and Stephanie, and Mary and Hank gently bobbed up and down with the boat and enjoyed the last blush of sunset on the horizon. They, along with hundreds of other Wisconsins in boats or on the nearby shore, awaited nightfall and the start of the Madison Fourth of July fireworks display.

An amiable atmosphere permeated the evening. Laughter and snippets of conversation from neighboring boats drifted on the warm breeze. In the Hayden's boat Hank and Mary sat in the two pilots' chairs. Built into the stern of the boat was a cushioned bench. Stephanie lounged against Evan on the starboard side of the bench. On the port side Paul and Jenny sat together, with Paul's right arm resting on the back of the seat. Jenny leaned her head against her husband's shoulder. Scott and Melany lay across the bow of the boat with their backs against the windshields. Lifejackets cushioned their heads. The group shared a comfortable silence. The gentle slapping of the water against the boat's hull accompanied their personal musings.

A soft "Oh!" from Jenny punctuated their quiet contemplation. All eyes turned to her. Jenny laid a hand on her rounded belly and shifted in her seat. Paul laid his hand over Jenny's and looked at her with concern. "It's okay, Paul, really," Jenny said with a small smile.

"She's kicking again?" Stephanie asked.

"Yeah, she's a feisty one," Jenny replied. "The next two months are going to be interesting."

"Yeah, I know what you mean, " Stephanie agreed. "Sometimes I thought the girls were playing for their own personal World Cup during the last trimester!" Stephanie's comment earned a round of chuckles and groans from the others.

"Well, I'm sure they're giving Irmi a run for her money tonight," Evan said with a grin. He nodded at Melany. "We've been fortunate to have Irmi and Melany's help with those two."

"It's been fun," Melany said brightly, rolling onto her stomach to address Evan. "But then again, neither Irmi or I are on the 2 a.m. feeding detail."

"Oh, that can be arranged," Evan quipped. He turned his attention to Scott. "And for you, too, Scott, if you take me up on my job offer. Have you decided? Your post-high school vacation is rapidly coming to an end." Evan's tone indicated that he was only half joking.

"Don't remind me!" Scott laughed. Images of the past two weeks flitted through Scott's mind: sleeping 'till whenever he wanted, no buzzers telling him when to switch rooms for his next class, being free to be outside on weekdays, going camping with his parents, hiking with Melany, swimming with friends from school. The only constant in his schedule was continuing his Sunday visits to the Keitzer's farm to help Irmi, Evan, Stephanie, and Melany with the chores. Evan paid him well for helping with the cows and the new fields of crops that Evan had planted. Scott liked the outdoor work for the most part and got to see Melany one more time each week. Scott didn't want it to end.

Evan's job offer the previous Sunday had caught Scott off guard, however. While they were mending a fence in the cow pasture Evan asked Scott what his plans were for the future. "I'm not sure," Scott replied. "I'm thinking of getting a job and taking a few classes part time at the university. I definitely don’t want to go to school full time, at least not yet. There's so much else better to do than being stuck in a classroom all day."

"Hmm. Classes for what degree?" Evan asked.

"Biochem, maybe pre-vet."

"I don't know if this would fit into your plans," Evan said casually, "but I could use your help around here, say, 30 hours per week."

"Really?" Scott looked around at the few dairy cows and small alfalfa, potato, and vegetable fields. "Doing what?"

"Irmi and I have been discussing the future of the farm recently. Without Kurt here…" - Evan hesitated after mentioning his late foster father's name - "…the farm is barely breaking even anymore. She's worried about this place being a financial drain on Steph and me in the future. Irmi asked me to figure out a way to make this place profitable without selling off the land."

"How can you? This farm is too small to compete with those big commercial farms, isn't it?"

"For most products, yes. I've been doing some research, though. If this farm grows organic produce, I think it will work. I joined the organic growers' cooperative in the spring. They've got contracts with some of the local stores, so a lot of the marketing is taken care of."

"Organic produce -- is there much demand for that?" Scott asked.

"It's still a small market, but it's growing fast. Going organic is definitely risky. I've got a good feeling about it, though. And I'd like for you to be my right-hand man in this venture."

"Me? I don’t know anything about farming. I mean, Dad and I helped out on that farm in Vacaville a while back and I did a lot of ranching at the Sullivans' in Montana, but that's a far cry from 100% organic farming."

"I know. We'd both be learning a lot of it as we go. This wouldn't be following recipes from a book that some yuppie wrote, though. I met Lewis, a farmer from La Crosse, who has a well-established organic program and he's willing to show me the ropes. Besides, you don't realize how much you do around here. You're a hard worker and a fast learner, Scott.

Here's the deal. I'll pay you twice the wage you're making now. I'll tell you what I want planted where and when. You'll get all of the supplies and information you need, from books to talking with Lewis. And you'll have Henry and Joan to help during the week and me on the weekends. Also, you'd keep records of what techniques and methods you used so we can figure out what works and what doesn't."

"I'd be running the farm!" Scott gulped.

"More or less. I guess that makes me administration," Evan shuddered theatrically. Scott frowned over the amount of responsibility the job entailed. "Take some time and think about it, " Evan said. "I plan to start small so I can see what organic methods bring the best results. Also, you're welcome to live here if you accept the job, or you could commute from your parents' house. Lemme know what you decide."

"What job, Scott?" Paul's voice snapped his son from his reverie. Melany, Paul, Jenny, and the Haydens looked at him curiously.

Scott wished he'd mentioned this earlier. "Oh, um, Evan is looking for someone to help out on the farm more, like 30 hours a week," Scott said.

"It's more than that, really," Evan began and briefly described his plans for making the Keitzer's farm organic. Noting Scott's discomfort, he added, "I'm sorry, Scott, I shouldn't have put you on the spot. I do need to know soon, though."

"That's okay," Scott replied. "I'll give you an answer this weekend. I have been thinking about it. The problem is that I'm not sure what I want to do. School made everything easy. You didn't have to think much beyond the next class, the next day, or at most the next test. But now there are a hundred different directions to go in… makes it tough to choose." The adults nodded sympathetically.

"But Scott, " Mary added with a grandmother's gentle authority, "you don't have to pick just one direction. Just do what's right and what makes you happy. If you're lucky the two will coincide."

"Somehow it doesn't seem that easy, " Scott mused aloud. He looked fondly at Melany. Yellow-tinged light shone up from the boat's controls and illuminated her face. "Mel's got it all figured out, though," he added. "Tell 'em the good news."

Melany smiled shyly. "I've been accepted at the university for my pre-med degree." She was showered with congratulations from the others.

"And?" Scott prompted with a grin.

"And I won the scholarship. It pays for room and board at the dorms, so I'll be able to live on campus for the next two years." Melany enjoyed another round of congratulations.

Scott could just make out the flush coloring her cheeks in the dim light. Melany still didn't like being the center of attention, despite the confidence and poise she'd attained since he'd first met her over a year ago. Scott's eyes moved from Melany's slightly self-conscious smile, to her bold nose, her high cheekbones, and to her eyes. Her dark eyes drank in the light, yet sparkled with the energy and determination that Scott found intoxicating. You're wonderful, Scott thought.

Melany turned her head towards him. "So are you," she said softly. A chill ran down Scott's spine.

The first firework of the evening exploded overhead into a sparkling umbrella of golden embers. Paul gasped and smiled at the airborn display. A second shell hissed skyward and erupted with a sharp boom. Paul jumped slightly, then watched wide-eyed as glittering cobalt blue arcs floated earthward.

Paul's companions smiled at his childlike appreciation of the fireworks display. "First fireworks?" Hank asked.

"Yes," Paul replied. Another firework left the ground with a foomph. Silvery cat's-claws raked the dark sky. "Are fireworks only for the Fourth of July?" Paul asked.

"No, they're used to celebrate all kinds of important events," Jenny explained. "You can get smaller ones to fire at home, too."

"I think we should get some," Paul said, hugging his wife closer. "We'll have something to celebrate soon." A red firework spidered overhead. No one noticed that Scott didn’t share his parents' enthusiasm.

 

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The untamed music of crickets and junebugs filled Scott's darkened room that night. He lay awake in bed staring at the constellations adorning the night sky. Usually Scott couldn't stay awake as long as he'd like to observe the stars. Tonight, however, his body was tired but his mind would not rest.

Ursa major hung overhead in the northwest. Scott pictured the image of the Great Bear over the asterism. He chuckled quietly - she was dangling by her feet! Scott identified with her; he felt as if he were dangling precariously as well. He knew that he had to make up his mind tonight about what he was going to do now that he'd graduated from high school. The question had hung in the air between him and his parents after the fireworks during the short walk home from Hank and Mary's house. Instead they'd commented on the display and discussed the origins of fireworks. Scott was thankful that they'd let it lie for the evening, but was sure they'd ask about it tomorrow.

In the "dipper" of Ursa major, Merak and Dubhe steadfastly pointed the way to the north star. Scott had watched them spin overhead through three-quarters of a rotation from his bedroom windows, always showing the way to Polaris. Their constancy made him think of Melany and her goal to become a doctor. Despite all of the obstacles she'd encountered in her life Melany had never lost her direction. He resolved to find similar direction for himself, beginning with his plans for the immediate future.

Scott easily ruled out going to college full time. He wouldn't enjoy being indoors most of the day, whether he was in classrooms, labs, or tiny dorm rooms. Beside, he'd miss his parents and this beautiful house. My home, he thought with a smile.

Or would I? Scott's smiled faded. Everything was changing now. For nearly a year Scott and his parents had enjoyed a comfortable normalcy. There had been a few extraterrestrially-derived bumps in the road, but they'd gotten through them unscathed. Their lives would be turned upside down after the baby -- his sister! -- was born in September. Scott looked forward to having a sister, but he also wanted to hold on to the tranquil life he now enjoyed.

Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to be away some of the time, Scott mused. Evan's job offer was looking more attractive. Scott liked working at the farm already. If Scott took Evan's offer he could stay at the Keitzer farm with Irmi and the Pierces four nights of the week and with his mother and father on the other three. Since Melany was staying with the Pierce's until school started he'd see Melany more, too. Plus, he'd be less involved with the baby frenzy that was beginning to take hold in his house already. However, Scott felt that the perks to working on the Keitzer farm were evenly counterbalanced by the responsibility that went with the organic farming job. Oh well, he thought, I'll just have to learn as I go.

Scott wondered where this farming job could lead him in the future. He didn't see himself as "Farmer Scott". He reconsidered studying biochemistry at the university. His main motivation to study biochem was to figure out how his sphere and his abilities inherited from his father worked, not to ultimately do research or get a job in the field. Despite his practice and progress with and without his sphere, Paul continued to be reticent when answering Scott's questions about their skills. Scott was less than pleased with his father for his close-mouthedness. He decided to find out for himself by taking classes part time at the university. The biology may help with working the Keitzer's farm, and he might even be in some classes with Melany.

Scott's mind relaxed with each decision. He was vaguely aware of his suddenly heavy eyelids hiding the night sky. He slipped into a deep, restful sleep.

 

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The wooden boards of the deck were slightly damp on Paul's bare feet. He set the short stack of plates, napkins, and utensils he was carrying on the patio table before him. Paul took a step back from the table and regarded the unfolding morning.

Delicate beads of dew clung to every surface of the yard - the leaves of maple trees, blades of grass, and a spiderweb straddling the northwest corner of the deck. The droplets sparkled with the pastel morning light slanting through the trees. A few hundred feet in front of him Lake Mendota reflected the clear blue sky above. Small waves from the light breeze disturbed the lacustrine mirror. Although he'd stood in this spot hundreds of times, Paul always found something new and wonderful. He was amazed by the simple beauty of this often contrary world.

The sliding screen door whispered open behind Paul. Jenny padded across the deck towards Paul and slipped her arms around him from behind. Paul felt her belly press against him and marveled again at the life that Jenny carried inside of her. He wished he'd been able to stay with Jenny for Scott's birth and childhood. Paul pushed the wistful thought aside.

Jenny pressed her head against Paul's left shoulder and took in the quiet morning. "Beautiful, isn't it?" she commented.

Paul glanced down at his wife. "Yes," he answered quietly, "all of it." Jenny's dark eyes softened and a small smile spread across her lightly freckled face.

Jenny's expression quickly changed to wry amusement. "I'd better watch it around you, smoothtalker!" Paul gave her his best "Who, me?" look. She hugged him, and they kissed.

The patio door slid shut behind them. "All right you lovebirds," Scott quipped, "let's eat. I'm starving!" Scott, dressed casually like his parents in a T-shirt and shorts, juggled a plate of steaming pancakes, a bottle of maple syrup, a butter dish, and a pitcher of orange juice. He quickly deposited the pancakes, condiments, and pitcher on the table. The three of them set the table and sat down for breakfast.

"Mmm," Jenny said after her first bite of pancake, "Good pancakes, Scott. You're becoming quite the chef."

"Thanks," Scott replied. "Melany and I have been cooking a few meals at the Keitzer's lately. I'm starting to really enjoy it." At the mention of the Keitzer's Paul considered asking Scott about Evan's job and his future plans. The way Scott studied his plate after he finished the sentence told Paul to wait a little while longer.

The family chatted about what to do for dinner -- barbecue some chicken and corn on the grill -- and their plans for the day. Jenny said she'd be putting the finishing touches on the last oil painting in her Lake Mendota series. For the past few months she'd painted a single view of the lake in different styles - more like from different points of view. In each painting different elements of the landscape were emphasized, to the point that each of her seven paintings appeared to be of a different subject. Paul found them fascinating. He looked forward to seeing the seven finished pieces together.

"I've got that last roll of film to develop," Paul said. "Afterwards I'm thinking of taking the canoe out on the lake for a while. Would you like to come along?" Paul's gaze included both Jenny and Scott.

"No, but thanks," Jenny said. "I've got to get that painting done today so it will be relatively dry by Monday."

"That sounds good, Dad," Scott said, mopping up the last of the maple syrup on his plate with the remaining bits of pancake on his fork. "Lemme know when you're ready to go. I'm just going for a run in a little while, then meeting Tom later this afternoon." Scott popped the last of his pancakes in his mouth and excused himself. He took his plate and some of the dishes with him into the house.

Jenny watched her son's retreating back with concern. She turned to Paul saying, "What's going on, Paul? Something's been bothering Scott all week, but he's been trying to act like everything's fine. Do you think it was Evan's job offer?"

"I think that's at least part of it," Paul suggested. "It seems like most of his friends have decided to go to college or are looking for jobs. Scott hasn't. He's been here, working at the Keitzer's, or going out with Tom or Melany, but that's it. Is that unusual?"

"A little," Jenny said quietly. "There's no rule saying that you immediately have to decide what to do after you graduate from high school, but most kids get jobs or go to college. I've been thinking about talking to Scott about it, but don't want to push him too hard. After all, we've only been together for less than a year." She laid a hand on her belly thoughtfully. "I don't want him to think he's being forced out."

Paul considered Jenny's concerns. He'd thought of some of the same things himself. "I'll talk to him when we're out on the lake."

"Good," Jenny agreed. She paused thoughtfully. "The past few months have been good to us, Paul. We all needed them, and now things are changing." She frowned momentarily. "When you're talking with Scott, remember that living here with us in the future could be hard for him."

Paul was puzzled. "Why?"

"Peer pressure. Melany and Tom will understand if Scott stays here, but most eighteen year olds don't think very highly of living at home." Paul frowned in confusion. "Most teenagers are sick of their parents' rules and want to do what they want when they want. They haven't had the freedom that Scott had when he was with you."

Paul thought of the four years that he and his son had spent hiding or running from Fox. "I wouldn't call that freedom."

"I agree, but to a teenager used to the routine of school, a part-time job, and weekend parties it would be. As far as a lot of them are concerned, you're not going anywhere if you live at home."

Jenny's explanation of teen social norms made some sense to Paul. No matter how much he learned about the inhabitants of this planet, humans where hopelessly complicated. Paul was grateful for Jenny's and Scott's help to make sense of it. "I'll keep it in mind," he said.

 

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Paul and Scott's canoe slipped quietly through the water. They skirted the shore to avoid the wakes of motorboats speeding across deeper parts of the lake. Along this stretch of shore birch, oak, and maple trees grew to the water's edge. Quivering spots of sunlight dappled the shade cast by the lush green canopy. Singing birds, chirping insects, and the breaking of the small waves on the gravel shore masked the distant hum of motorboat engines.

Paul and Scott's banter during the beginning of their trip had devolved into an expectant silence. Scott broke it. "So what's on that roll of film you developed today?" he asked, turning his head to the back of the canoe to address his father.

"The last of the pictures from the anti-immigrant demonstration in Chicago at the end of last week," Paul replied, frowning. "They're ugly pictures of people yelling in anger and distrust, but that's what the paper wanted. I'm glad that series is over."

"Hmm," Scott murmured. "Got another assignment lined up? Anything interesting?"

"Not yet, but I do have something interesting."

Scott heard the playfulness in his father's voice and twisted in his seat to look at Paul. "What is it?" Scott said, his curiosity piqued.

"I'm putting together a book," Paul grinned, "like Stephanie's. She says that my pictures have a different 'angle' to them that gets peoples' attention. Stephanie suggested publishing a book of them. She came up with a title, too -- A Different Perspective."

"That's great, Dad!"

Paul grinned at Scott's enthusiasm. "I've got a few shots already from some of my previous work but need a lot more. So it looks like the camera and I will be inseparable for most of the summer." Paul looked at his son thoughtfully. "How about you, what will you be up to?"

Scott's enthusiasm waned. He glanced forward to see if there was any shallow water ahead. Seeing none, he pulled his oar inside the canoe and turned around in his seat to face Paul. The canoe drifted slowly. "I've been meaning to talk to you and Mom about that," Scott said. "Aside from working sundays at the Keitzer's farm, I've been kinda drifting for the past few weeks." Scott looked at his father. "It was nice of you to let me live it up."

Paul simply smiled. Scott continued, "Evan offered me the job at the Keitzer's farm a week ago. I'd put off making a decision until last night. I'm going to take the job."

"Congratulations," Paul said, looking at his son proudly. "When do you start?"

"Tomorrow, I guess, since I'd be at the farm anyway," Scott replied. "I'm gonna call Evan when we get back."

"Is your truck running okay?" Paul asked. "That's going to be a long commute."

Scott studied the rippling water distractedly. "Um, that's the other thing I need to talk to you and Mom about." Paul's eyebrows rose expectantly. "I'm going to stay at the Keitzer's on the days I work there, probably about four days a week."

Although Paul tried to hide it, Scott saw his father's disappointment. "Oh, yes… that makes more sense than driving back and forth." Paul smiled, but it was forced. "Maybe on the days you're here we could make some of the dishes you and Melany have been cooking at the Keitzer's."

"Sure, Dad, that would be great," Scott replied. He wondered if his face mirrored the slightly wistful expression his father wore. Why does everything have to change? he wondered. Scott wished he could extend this episode of his life where his family was happy and secure and disregard his growing desire for independence. Scott knew that he'd be foolish to deny it, and hoped that working at the Keitzer’s farm would be a good starting point.

"I'm going to register for one or two classes at the university, too. Biochem stuff," Scott added. He grinned at Paul. "Maybe I'll be able to teach you a thing or two by the end of the semester."

"Maybe," his father agreed with a genuine smile. Paul sat up straight and looked towards the middle of the lake. Scott followed his line of sight. A rainbow of sailboats glided across the water, through the crisscross of wakes left by impatient speedboats. Their silence was filled in by gently rustling leaves and water lapping on the sides of the canoe.

"Are you ready to head back?" Paul asked quietly.

Scott almost said yes, but stopped himself. "No, not just yet," he replied. Scott looked around, at the placid surface of Lake Mendota to his right, the vibrant summer woodland to his left, and his father before him. "I'd like to enjoy this for a little while longer."

###  **Chapter 2: Passage**

The explosion rang in Scott's ears. He sat bolt upright in bed. His heart pounded as his eyes darted around the dark, unfamiliar room. An old-fashioned wooden bureau stood somberly against the wall opposite his bed. Weak moonlight filtered through the gauzy drapes of the window of the wall on his right. A light breeze made the curtains dance like restless ghosts. Where the hell-- Scott thought in alarm. His eyes fell on his work clothes from the day before tossed on the ladderback chair in the corner of the room. Scott breathed a sigh of relief and flopped back into the soft bed. The Keitzer's. he thought. My home away from home.

Tendrils of anticipation and dread from the nightmare clung to Scott. He reluctantly tried to recall what aspect of the dream had disturbed him so, but his memory of it had already faded. All he remembered was shock, panic, and a foreboding sense of finality.

A rooster crowed nearby. Outside the pale pastel dawn rallied against the moonlight. Morning already? Scott thought. He stretched and swung his legs over the side of the bed, shaking off the remnants of the nightmare. Definitely not the best way to start the day, Scott thought as he put on a clean pair of jeans, a T-shirt, and socks.

Scott closed his bedroom door quietly behind him stepped into the twilight of the old farmhouse's narrow upstairs hallway. He padded past Irmtraud's, Evan and Stephanie's, Melany's, and the twins' bedrooms. Mitzi, Irmtraud's German shepherd, wagged her tail in greeting from her self-appointed post at the head of the stairs. She accompanied Scott downstairs as she had the previous two weeks. Scott grabbed an apple on his way through the kitchen, donned his work boots on the back porch, and stepped into the morning with his canine escort.

Each bite of the apple crunched loudly in the stillness of the new day. The sun peeking over the rolling hills to the east stained the sky scarlet. It bathed the fields in its warm glow and tinted the weathered barn a dusky pink.

The rooster crowed one last time from his perch atop the chicken coop. Scott strode over to the coop and unlatched the door. Six chickens, two ducks, and two geese strutted out and clustered around Scott. "No food here, you freeloaders," Scott told them. "Go eat bugs in the fields like you're supposed to." The birds skittered out of Scott's path as he and Mitzi headed for the barn.

By the time he'd finished milking the four dairy cows with the farm's small milking apparatus it was time to join the others for breakfast. As he made his way back to the house, Scott realized that he was settled into his new routine. After the ranch chores he'd become accustomed to in Montana, suburban life in Madison was almost too easy. Working at the Keitzer farm was a good compromise. The farm work kept him busy but still allowed enough time in the evenings for a trip to nearby La Crosse with Melany, or to relax at the house with everyone.

Mitzi hopped onto the back porch just ahead of Scott. The buttery aroma of a country breakfast drifted from the screen door, along with the sounds of dishes clattering and shoes scuffing on the wooden floor. Scott's stomach growled as he kicked his work boots off. Mitzi danced in front of the door. Scott let them both into the kitchen.

"--no later than 4:30, unless they bring up that overpass proposal again," Evan shouted over his shoulder. The tall man stood in the entrance to the kitchen, addressing someone upstairs. The top button of his ivory dress shirt was unbuttoned, and a maroon tie hung around his neck. Scott stifled a grin. He still wasn't used to seeing Evan in a suit.

"Good morning, Scott," Irmtraud said brightly, glancing up from her position in front of the stove. She expertly flipped four eggs over easy.

"'Morning," Scott said. He walked around Irmtraud to the sink and washed his hands.

"Oh, hi, Scott," Evan said and turned around. "I didn't hear you come in." Mitzi pranced over to him. "Hi girl," he said and scratched her behind her ears.

"Would you two set the table, please?" Irmi asked. "Breakfast is almost ready."

"Sure," Scott and Evan said simultaneously. Scott took five plates from one of the cupboards and handed them to Evan. Evan set a plate in front of each chair at the oval wooden table, except for the two highchairs. He looked up at Scott and nodded towards the door. "How goes the battle against the slugs?"

"I think we're winning finally," Scott replied. He scooped silverware from a drawer. "Lewis's suggestion to sprinkle wood ashes on the plants seems to be working."

"Thank god," Evan said. He skirted around Irmtraud and Scott to the refrigerator and took out condiments for the meal. "Neither of us were looking forward to hand-picking them off the cabbage for the rest of the summer."

"Eew," Melany said. Scott looked up to find her in the kitchen entrance. He appreciated the way her blue cotton tank dress hinted at her figure. They exchanged smiles.

"That's exactly why I asked Scott before breakfast," Evan quipped. "Good morning, Mel. Where's Steph? We have to get going to get to Madison on time."

"She's dressing the girls. Lise decided that she doesn't want to wear socks today," Melany grinned. She took the butter and ketchup from Evan and set them on the table.

"Ugh," Evan moaned. Scott dodged him on his way to the table with silverware and glasses. "She's definitely the stubborn one of the two."

Stephanie appeared in the doorway behind Melany carrying the two one year old girls. "I can't imagine where she gets it from," Stephanie said with a sly grin. "'Morning, everyone." She strode into the crowded kitchen wearing a lightweight gray pantsuit. Scott noticed that both Gretchen and Lise wore socks. "All right, you two," Stephanie said as she sat the girls in the highchairs. "Evan, would you please grab two jars of oatmeal?" Evan brought her the jars of baby food and two tiny spoons.

"You're just in time. Everything's ready," Irmtraud announced. Everyone but Irmtraud took their seats. Irmtraud set steaming plates of eggs, bacon, hash browns, and toast on the table and sat down as well. They passed the serving plates around the table and helped themselves.

"Irmi, you are a godsend on days like these," Stephanie commented. "I'm glad that both of us only have to be in Madison all day once a week."

"It's good to have you all to cook for," Irmtraud said. She made a playful face at the twins. Gretchen laughed, and Lise clapped with delight. "And good to spoil my grandchildren every so often."

The kitchen was relatively quiet for a few moments as everyone dug into breakfast. Stephanie softly cajoled the girls to eat their breakfast between bites of her own.

"So, Scott," Evan said. He speared some egg and bacon with his fork. "Tomorrow's Jenny's big night, right?"

"Yeah. I'm going home this afternoon to help her get ready for the reception," Scott replied. "Henry's taking care of the livestock until I get back on Sunday."

"Good," Evan said. "We'll all be at the gallery tomorrow with bells on."

Stephanie scooped a blob of oatmeal off of Lise's chin and glanced at her watch. "Evan, it's almost 8:00. We've gotta go."

"Okay," Evan finished the last of his meal and stood up. "I don't know who'd be crankier if we were late - your editor or my supervisor."

"Melany, would you please finish feeding the girls?" Stephanie asked.

"Sure, no problem," Melany replied. She picked up Gretchen's spoon from the tray of her highchair.

Stephanie stood and kissed the girls goodbye. She joined Evan in the hallway. "''Bye everyone," they said.

"See you tonight - or tomorrow," Evan added as they dashed out the door.

Scott swallowed a forkful of eggs and bacon. "Ugh, morning meetings," he commented. "I'd rather be milking the cows." Scott pushed the few remaining hash browns on his plate onto his fork with his knife.

"So would Evan," Irmi said with a smile. Lise helped herself to her breakfast while Melany was feeding Gretchen. More oatmeal was getting on Lise's bib than to her mouth. "Scott, would you please give Melany a hand? I'll start cleaning up."

"Uh, okay," Scott agreed reluctantly. Irmtraud stood and began clearing the table. Scott moved to the other side of the table and sat next to Lise's highchair. She chortled happily and waggled the spoon at Scott. Scott wrestled it out of her suprisingly strong grip. He scooped a spoonful of oatmeal from the little jar.

"No, not that much," Melany corrected. "She'll get it everywhere."

"She's already getting it everywhere!” Scott said with a hint of annoyance. He tapped some of the oatmeal from the spoon. Lise obediently opened her mouth and took the food. Only a little escaped from the corners of her mouth. Scott caught it with the spoon and offered it to Lise again. She suddenly was more interested in her sister, and reached for Gretchen's highchair.

Scott fought his impatience. "I don't know how you do it, Mel," he said quietly.

Melany zigzagged her spoon towards Gretchen, who happily ate the oatmeal. "Do what?"

"Help out with the girls so much," Scott said. "Lise," he called and got her attention. She took the oatmeal.

"They're good girls," Melany replied. Gretchen smacked the spoon Melany was holding, splattering oatmeal on the highchair tray. "Well, most of the time. And I'm making good money babysitting."

Scott watched Melany patiently wipe up the spilled food with a napkin. Gretchen grabbed a fistful of Melany's long hair and pulled it closer to examine it. Talking softly to the baby, Melany extracted the strands from the Gretchen's grasp and flipped her hair over her shoulder. She scraped the last of the oatmeal from the jar. Scott marveled at how easy this was for her. He liked Lise and Gretchen, particularly when they weren't crying, but babies made him nervous. He never knew what to do around them, mostly because he had no idea what they might do next.

Melany caught his eye with a sidelong glance. Scott looked away. "You've got a few more spoonfuls, there," she said as she wiped Gretchen's face with her bib. Lise took the bite of food Scott offered. He scraped the remaining baby food from the jar.

"You've been distancing yourself from the girls since you've been staying here," Melany commented quietly. "Are you worried about having a sister?"

Scott looked at her sharply. "No, of course not," he denied. After a few spoon zigzags Lise ate the last of her breakfast. Scott gratefully cleaned her face with her bib and stood up.

"Just wondering," Melany said noncommittally. "I've heard it happens, that's all." She stood up and smiled at him. "Thanks for your help. Where can I find you before lunch? I'll give you a hand while the monsters are napping."

"The north field," Scott said, relaxing. "There's weeding to catch up on, and lots of it." He smiled and took her hand. "See you later," he said. He squeezed her hand and quickly kissed her goodbye. As he moved towards the back door Scott caught Irmtraud's eye. "Thanks for breakfast, Irmi."

"Bitte schön, Scott," Irmtraud said as she ran water for dishes. A high-pitched "Bye!" from one of the twins followed Scott out the door.

 

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The undulating surface of the water drew sinuous lines of light on the underside of the weatherbeaten dock. A woman's pensive face and folded hands peeked over the edge. Her dark hair hung straight down, seemingly at anyone appreciating the painting. Jenny smiled. She liked this piece. She was glad she'd made this copy to sell and kept the original.

The painting lay atop the pile of her artwork for the reception in the trunk of the wagon. Jenny took a large piece of clean canvas from the cardboard box at her feet and covered the painting. She picked up the box and wedged it between the widest canvas and the side of the trunk to keep the paintings from sliding around during the trip downtown. Beads of sweat appeared on Jenny's face as she closed the trunk. The slightest exertion caused perspiration in the still, humid July heat.

"Does this go, too?" Scott called from the front porch. He held up a worn brown artist's portfolio.

"No," Jenny answered. She walked up the brick path and joined Scott on the porch. "The sketches for the show are in the black portfolio in the car."

"What's in here?" Scott asked curiously.

"Doodles," Jenny grinned. "Studies and sketches in pencil, mostly."

"Somehow I don't think your doodles look like mine from school. Can I take a look?" Scott asked.

"Sure," Jenny said. She nodded towards the large elm tree in the front yard. "Let's sit over there in the shade."

They padded across the green grass to the tree. Jenny eased herself to the ground awkwardly. The growing baby was beginning to offset her balance.

Scott sat down beside her and set the portfolio on his outstretched legs. He pulled a sheaf of various sized sheets of paper from the portfolio. "I recognize this one," Scott said about the 8 x 10 inch sheet on top. The light lines of a quick pencil sketch depicted a young man casually leaning against a wall playing an acoustic guitar. A minimal number of lines described the audience his music had attracted. The young man's eyes focused on some distant object. His sanguine expression and easy posture showed that he was lost in the melody. "Is this one of the street musicians downtown?" Scott asked.

"Yeah. He was playing near the capitol a few weeks ago," Jenny replied. "His playing was okay, but it was his expression that caught my eye. I had to stop and sketch it."

"I think I like this drawing better than the watercolor," Scott commented.

"Me, too. It's hard not to lose the spontaneity of the initial sketch."

The next few sheets were studies for Jenny's latest oil painting. Crisp, dark lines described young white birches on the edge of a grassy meadow. In the distance a dilapidated old farmhouse slanted sharply to the left. The leaves of the birches in the foreground and the treetops in the distance bent in the same direction.

"Where is this?" Scott asked.

Jenny lightly tapped her temple. "Up here, now," she said. "When I was growing up my parents' house was on the edge of the development. Beyond it were woods and a few farms. This meadow was a mile or so from my house. I used to look at the farmhouse from the edge of the woods and wonder whose home it had been."

"Did you ever go inside?"

"No, the place was falling apart," Jenny replied. "Once I looked in some of the windows. There was a lot of trash inside, and someone had vandalized the walls. I wish I hadn't looked in. It took all of the mystery out of it."

Scott studied the drawing for a few more moments, and moved the sketch to the bottom of the pile. The next sheet was a nearly blank piece of heavy, slightly puckered watercolor paper. Scott squinted at the word penciled in the center of the sheet. "'Unlearning'," he read aloud, and flipped the paper over.

Somber indigo and umber tones churned in the lower left hand corner of the painting. Towards the center of the page the indigo brightened to emerald. The nebulous shapes and hues gradually transformed to overlapping green and yellow arcs in the upper right corner.

"Wow," Scott said quietly. He pointed at the brightly-colored crescents in the top right part of the painting. "This reminds me of feathers, or wings."

Jenny smiled. "That's what I had in mind," she said.

Scott frowned at the watercolor. "Why'd you call it 'Unlearning'?"

"'Cause that's what inspired me," Jenny explained. "I painted this late one night in the spring. You were camping with the guys that weekend and your father was in Boston on an assignment. I'd just gotten back from Diedre's, and the house was really quiet. I was still wide awake, so I turned on the TV and flipped through the channels. All of the sudden I realized how normal my life had become. I wasn't trying to keep a low profile, or wondering if you were okay, or the thousand other worries I'd had before. I realized that I'd unlearned all of that and could simply live life. It was wonderful, and this was the best way I could express it."

Scott held the watercolor at arms length and appreciated it. "I don’t think that anyone could afford this painting," he grinned.

"No way," Jenny agreed. She reached for the sheaf of papers. Scott handed them to her and looked at her curiously. "There are two in particular that I want you to see," Jenny said as she flipped through the papers. She selected two of the sheets, placed them on top, and handed them to Scott.

The first was a photorealistic pencil sketch that was yellowed at the edges. A small boy with dark wavy hair lay on the ground on his stomach, propping himself up by his elbows. His attention was fixed on the toy in his hands, a puzzle made of three interlocking wooden blocks. His eyes shone with curiosity and determination.

"You've got to remember that puzzle," Jenny said. "That was the only thing that would get you to sit still, unless you were sleeping."

Scott's eyes widened. "Oh my god!" he laughed delightedly. "Yeah, that puzzle drove me nuts!"

Jenny smiled at her son. "You got it, though. You were a smart little boy."

Scott laughed again. "I can't believe I remember that! How old was I?"

"About two and a half."

"You've got to hang this up somewhere. This is great!" Scott said enthusiastically. He turned to Jenny. "Do you plan on doing a family portrait of us all eventually?"

"I've been meaning to," Jenny said. "I'm going to wait until after your sister is born, though." She saw something flash across Scott's face -- disappointment? She wasn't sure. Scott's smile had definitely diminished. She decided to change the subject. "Take a look at the other sketch," Jenny suggested.

Scott placed the portrait at the bottom of the stack, revealing another portrait on yellowed paper. It was a slightly abstract sketch of the head and torso of a man in three-quarter profile holding a baby. The man looked at the infant cradled in his arms, tilting his head down and hiding most of his face from view.

Scott smiled. "That's Dad," he said decisively. "But the baby can't be me."

"Sure he can," Jenny said gently. "I've got a good imagination."

 

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Melany closed her eyes and breathed a deep sigh of contentment. A light wind softened the heat of the August sun. The commingled scents of dry grass, wine, barbecuing food, and sunblock drifted on the breeze. The pleasantly dissonant chords of the jazz ballad being performed on the outdoor stage washed over her. Each pulse of the amplified string base vibrated in her chest. Stretched out on a soft Mexican blanket on the La Crosse Jazz Festival grounds, Melany idly tapped her fingers to the song's easy rhythm. She wished that the summer could go on forever.

The sensuous song drew to a close. Melany applauded with the crowd. She didn't hear Scott join in and squinted upwards. Scott lie on his side supporting his head with his left arm, looking down at her with a goofy grin. "What're you smiling at, mister?" Melany asked, amused by his expression.

"You. I like seeing you this happy," he replied, still grinning. Melany frowned slightly and eyed the open wine bottle and two glasses on top of the cooler behind Scott. Melany's glass stood a quarter full. The other was empty. Scott followed her line of sight. "I didn't have any, " Scott said casually, "not with the poor excuse for an alcohol tolerance I inherited."

"Then why are you grinning like the Cheshire Cat?" Melany teased. The ensemble on stage launched into a swing tune.

Scott's smile became slightly self-conscious. "'Cause I can see how happy you are," he said quietly. "It's kind of infectious."

The comfortable buzz Melany was enjoying from the wine dissipated a bit. "Really?" Although she'd known Scott's heritage since she'd left Montana with him, new revelations about his otherworldly abilities still caught her off guard. Her curiosity about his skills was tempered by the unease that she was loathe to admit. Melany deliberately pushed her discomfort aside. She rolled on to her stomach and propped herself up on her elbows. "What does it look like?" she asked.

Scott squinted while searching for a way to describe the phenomenon. "It's more of a feeling, really… a golden yellow glow, like the beginning of a sunset." He frowned. "It's fading now. I can only see it without my sphere if the person's emotions are really strong."

"Wow," Melany murmured. She looked at Scott intently. Melany had wanted to ask him one particular question numerous times during the months they'd been together, but something had stopped her each time. She knew about the energy that Scott could command. She knew that he could short out the festival's electrical equipment, set the stage ablaze, and heal any ensuing injuries if he wished. She knew because she'd seen him do similar things when they'd fled from Montana. Yet he sat before her as pleased as a child who had learned a new trick. Scott's candor overcame Melany's reticence. "Can you show me?" she asked.

Scott's eyebrows went up in surprise. "I don't know. I've never tried anything like that with anyone but my dad." Scott sat up and retrieved his sphere from the front right pocket of his cutoffs. He glanced around surreptitiously. Realizing Scott's intention, Melany sat up and looked about as well. Most everyone's attention was on the stage, except for a young family quieting a fussing toddler and a couple clearly interested only in each other.

Scott closed the sphere in his left hand. He crossed his legs Indian-style, placed his left hand palm-down on his leg, and looked pointedly at the hidden sphere. A faint blue glow and hum emanated from Scott's fist. The bright sunlight and music from the amplifiers masked most of the light and sound of the sphere. Scott smiled mischievously at Melany. "Wanna try?"

"Not now!" Melany whispered loudly, gesturing vaguely at the surrounding spectators.

Scott glanced around briefly. "No one noticed." He nodded at his left hand. "Put your hand over mine."

Melany's apprehension and curiosity warred for a split second. She reached for Scott's hand. Not knowing what to expect, Melany closed her eyes and she grasped his hand. A gentle vibration coincident with the sphere's soft hum traveled through the familiar contours of Scott's hand. Melany waited for a moment for something else, but she felt nothing more. Disappointed and a little relieved, Melany breathed, "It's not working, Scott," and opened her eyes.

Melany's gaze was immediately drawn to the young family sitting on a checked blanket six feet ahead of her. A dark-skinned woman in her thirties was gently bouncing the now-quiet toddler on her outstretched legs. A similarly aged black man sat to the woman's right with his arm draped loosely around her waist. A pink glow emanated from all three of them. The father's aura tinted a golden yellow in time with the music. The child's and woman's auras intensified with each bounce of the mother's legs.

Melany realized that she was gaping and closed her mouth with some effort. She looked around slowly in wide-eyed amazement. Most of the people within thirty feet of her were surrounded by colored auras, primarily yellows and pinks. She turned back to Scott and gasped. Rays of salmony-pink and yellow-gold radiated from him, along with a few thin lines of blue and brown. He should have been looking at her, but his eyes were focused on some distant subject.

Scott's far away expression abruptly changed to surprise. His eyes focused on Melany. The auras disappeared, although she felt and heard the sphere humming in Scott's hand. Scott smiled uncertainly.

"My god, " Melany said quietly. "Is that what you see all the time with the sphere?"

Scott's smile grew slightly. "If I'm looking for it, yeah."

"Are you still looking?" Scott nodded. "What do I look like?"

"Complicated," Scott frowned. The swing tune ended with a round of applause. "Pink with some blues, browns..." The sphere dimmed and was silent. Scott looked down at the blanket. "Maybe this was a bad idea," he said quietly. "I'm sorry if I scared you. I wasn't really sure if it would work at all."

Melany sat up indignantly. "You didn't scare me," she lied. Scott looked at her bluntly. "Well, I was a little scared, but that was a lot to take in." Scott's expression softened. "Actually, it was beautiful," she added. Melany's curiosity took hold again. "How'd you do it?" she asked.

"I tried to see what you were seeing, then add the 'frequency' that the sphere helps to focus," Scott grinned, "but I was totally winging it. I'm surprised it worked, actually."

"That was 'winging it'?" Melany said with a hint of alarm.

"Well, yeah, but--" Scott tripped over his words, "I'd never do anything like that unless you were aware of it!"

Scott's sincerity eased Melany's fears. She couldn't believe that she thought for a second that Scott would invade her privacy with his abilities. Melany smiled warmly at Scott. The worry creasing his face vanished. "I know you wouldn't," she said softy. Melany leaned forward and kissed him. They flopped back down on the blanket. Melany idly wondered about the auras around them. The notion was soon forgotten as she snuggled against Scott and enjoyed the lazy afternoon.

###  **Chapter 3: Vicissitude**

The morning dew drenched Scott’s boots as he crossed a fallow field to one of the half-acre experimental fields of organic produce. Scott shivered, partially from the chilly pre-dawn air, but mostly from the nightmare that had frightened him awake. This was the third time he’d had the nightmare, and he remembered more of it each time.

Scott forced himself to recall the dream to figure out what was upsetting him. He and Paul were in a crowd. Tall buildings rose up on either side of them. The people around them were in high spirits which Scott didn’t share. It felt like a carnival or a street fair. The crowd parted for a uniformed man. The man walked up to a red door of an ill-defined building. The door opened and the man handed a letter to someone inside. Then the door closed with a deafening boom. The terror, dread, and sense of inevitability that he’d woken up with rushed back.

A uniformed man… the police? The FSA? Scott wondered. Fox closed the investigation a year ago. Why am I worrying about him? And who is he delivering a letter to? What’s in the letter that’s so horrible? None of it made sense. Scott reached the field without any answers.

Scott knelt at the edge of the field planted with lettuce and onions. He inspected the companion plants in front of him. Neither the lettuce nor the scallions had any holes from hungry bugs. The onions were doing their job. Scott walked down one of the narrow lines of bare earth into the field. He stopped occasionally and checked the plants at his feet. None of the lettuce in the middle of the field had been eaten by insects, either. He and Evan were pleasantly surprised at how effective organic techniques were, although they took a lot of time and attention. Evan was already planning how much of which crops to plant in the spring.

Although Scott was happy that the farm was doing well and enjoyed working there, he was not as ebullient as Evan. Scott felt as if he were living in two different worlds – one in Rockland at the Keitzer farm and another in Madison. Classes at the university were in their second week. Scott stayed at his parents' house on the days his biochemistry, physics, and calculus classes met and at the farm on the others. He found the coursework to be more challenging than high school had been, but kept up with a minimal amount of studying. Although Melany was enrolled in the same classes as Scott, they shared only the same biochem section.

Scott missed seeing Melany at the farm. She had moved to the dorms a few days before the semester started. Scott had helped Melany move and met her roommate Sara. Sara was an outgoing, redheaded sophomore who stood nearly as tall as Scott. She and Melany hit it off right away. When Scott was in Madison Melany would go to his house or he'd visit her on campus. They'd study, go out, or hang out with Sara and their hallmates. Scott liked Melany's new circle of friends, but felt like a bit of an outsider. He suspected that they thought of him more as Melany's boyfriend than as part of the group.

Life at home had changed as well. All of the preparations for the soon-to-be-born baby had been completed by the end of August. Jenny had to stay off of her feet since she'd been having early contractions. She spent much of her time painting and sketching in her studio on the house’s first floor. The new pieces filled the flurry of orders that Jenny had received after the success of the reception in July.

Paul was away from the house more often taking pictures for his book. He'd traveled through Madison and the surrounding countryside over the summer. In the process Paul discovered that some of his best subjects came from different cultures, from rural people of Scandinavian descent to recent Asian immigrants downtown.

Paul shared his pictures and observations with Scott and Jenny, along with innumerable questions. Paul took nothing for granted. His inexperience and open-mindedness were reflected in his questions and comments, which ranged from naïve to insightful. Each conversation left Scott rethinking something he’d unquestioningly accepted, from the growing number of homeless people in America to the popularity of vanilla over chocolate ice cream.

Scott enjoyed their time together, but was glad to return to the Keitzer farm. As the baby’s due date approached, a growing anticipation gripped the household. It wore on Scott after a day or two, and he was grateful to escape it. He began to consciously resent his soon-to-be sister and was ashamed of it. The days grew shorter, the leaves changed color, and Scott buried his resentment and hoped it would disappear with the birth of his sister.

 

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The brilliant colors of autumn ringed Lake Mendota's shoreline and reflected in its waters. Paul enjoyed taking the canoe out on the lake during cooler weather. The cool air made the afternoon feel crisp and clear and kept the speedboats and jetskis away. However, the wind had picked up in the half an hour that Paul and Scott had been paddling along the shoreline. Paul steered the canoe into a cove sheltered from the wind.

Silence stretched between Paul and Scott as they warmed up. Paul realized that Scott had been unusually quiet the entire time they’d been out. "It's been a while since we last took the canoe out," Paul said casually. "We went canoeing last in July, right?"

"Yeah," Scott said neutrally. He stared absently into the dense woods that rose up a few feet from the narrow shore.

"What's the matter, Scott?" Paul asked quietly.

"Nothing," Scott denied.

"Yeah, right," Paul said flatly.

Scott twisted around and looked back at Paul in the stern of the canoe. He frowned. "Dad, sarcasm isn't your strong suit."

"It got your attention, didn't it?"

"Well, yeah, okay," Scott conceded. He paused for a moment. "I guess I'm just getting jealous watching so much of your and Mom's time going to the baby."

Paul considered his son's statement. "We all know that the baby is going to take a lot of time. I don't think it’s been more than is reasonable."

"That's true, but… it's just that…" Paul watched his son struggle. Scott studied the shifting surface of the water as he spoke. "This past year has been great. You and Mom and I are a family finally – not just three people living in the same house like it was at first. I feel like I'm just really getting to know you, and once the baby is born then that's it. She'll be raised right from the start, and I'll be stuck on the sidelines."

Scott's outburst thoroughly surprised Paul. "Scott," Paul called quietly. Scott looked at his father uncertainly. Paul met Scott's gaze earnestly. "Since I returned here four years ago you've been there when I needed you the most. I would not have survived without your help. You taught me what I needed to know to live here, from how to take care of this body to the nuances of your culture. You gave me some of your blood when I was sick, even though you barely knew me then. I would never leave you 'on the sidelines', Scott. You're a part of me. No one can take your place -- not Jenny, not your sister, nobody."

Scott smiled tentatively. "Well, I've certainly taught you how to express yourself," he said facetiously. The strained air between them lifted. “Thanks, Dad.” Paul smiled in return, hoping he’d abated Scott’s fears. After a few moments they paddled out of the cove into open water. The brisk wind seemed a little less chilly.

 

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Paul stared in wonder at the tiny new life in his arms. He had seen many infants in his time on Earth, but neither those experiences nor the books he'd read compared to holding his newborn daughter. Her small body was wrapped in a soft yellow baby blanket. Only her red, wrinkled face, currently lax with sleep, peeked out. Paul felt little from her except exhaustion and a vague sense of physical security. The jumble of emotions he sometimes felt from older humans simply wasn't there. A blank slate with everything to learn, Paul thought, like I was.

"Zoë," Jenny said. She lay in their bed propped up by several pillows. "I think Zoë suits her."

Paul looked up at his wife from his seat in the wingback chair a few feet from the bed. She was still flushed from the exertion of the delivery. Several strands of hair had fallen from the ponytail at the nape of her neck and clung damply to her face. Jenny looked happy, serene, and a little tired at the same time. She radiated joy and contentment. Paul was amazed by the obvious pain she had endured. It seemed that humans' most joyous experiences were often accompanied by suffering. The paradox puzzled him.

The midwife, a plump woman in her mid-forties, appeared in the doorway. "Mr. and Mrs. Forrester?" she asked.

"Yes, Jo Ann?" Jenny answered.

"I'm just about finished. Don't hesitate to call me for any reason." Jo Ann's green eyes settled on the baby. "Have you decided on a name?"

"Yes," Paul replied with a smile. "Zoë."

"Zoë --Greek for 'life'", Jo Ann said. "A good name for a beautiful little girl." She looked back at the couple. "I'll be heading out, then. Congratulations." They exchanged farewells. Jenny lay back into the pillows and shut her eyes.

As Jo Ann descended down the stairs Paul heard Scott's truck race up the driveway. A brief, muffled conversation carried upstairs from the entryway. A few moments later Scott burst into the room. He stopped just inside the doorway wearing a dusty T-shirt, jeans, and work boots. His eyes darted from Jenny, to Paul, and then found Zoë.

"She's here already?!" Scott said incredulously. He moved towards Paul, who rose from his chair to introduce Scott to his new sister.

"Yes," Jenny said. "I've been lucky. I wasn't in labor long for either you or your sister."

Paul gently handed the baby to Scott, who held her awkwardly. "Scott, meet your sister, Zoë."

Scott grinned crookedly at the baby. "Hi Zoë," he said softly. He looked up at Jenny. "She's so tiny." He turned back to Zoë and frowned. "You guys are practically blinding me with happiness, but I'm not getting anything from her," he said.

"She doesn't know much more than hunger or sleepiness, Scott." Jenny explained. "She has to learn everything, even emotions."

"Huh," Scott murmured. He held her silently for a few moments. "She's got sleepiness down," he joked. Zoë twisted in her sleep in Scott's arms. "Uh, here," Scott said, offering the baby to Paul.

"I'll take her," Jenny said. Paul handed the baby to Jenny. She cradled Zoë on her chest. "We're both ready for a nap. Don't let me sleep too long - we've got to call everyone with the news!" She looked from Paul to Scott and back and smiled broadly. "It's like a dream come true, having us all together," she said.

Paul sat on the edge of the bed. He switched off the lamp on the nightstand. "Go to sleep," he said. He leaned down and kissed Jenny. "We'll be here when you wake up."

 

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The following weeks were a blur of activity. Zoë had her 0th birthday party. She was oohed and aahed over by everyone – Mary and Hank, Evan and Stephanie, Imtraud and Melany, and even Lise and Gretchen. Scott was happy to discover that his resentment towards Zoë had all but disappeared. Although he didn’t feel threatened by his new sister anymore, Scott was still happy to be at the Keitzers’ part of the time. A newborn’s eating and sleeping schedule did not agree with that of the rest of the world.

Midterms coincided with the harvest at the Keitzer farm, which had kept Scott very busy through September and most of October. Between the harvest, Zoë, and Melany’s full schedule, Scott and Melany had been seeing each other less and less. They both looked forward to spending more time together once midterms were behind them.

Midterms came and went, but Scott saw even less of Melany. The evening after her last exam Melany excitedly described to Scott the additional class she’d added to her schedule. Some of the grad students in the biology department had talked a retiring professor into giving a mid-semester seminar on his specialty – neurology. She had impressed several of her professors, who put in a good word for Melany and got her into the class. However, the material was over her head. Although she had to spend twice as much time on the readings as the other students, Melany loved the class.

Scott tried to keep that in mind the times that Melany was too busy to go out. He felt as if he were on a waiting list for some of her time, as well as that of his parents, who were perennially occupied by Zoë.

The increasing frequency of Scott’s recurring nightmare added to his discontent. By the end of October he woke up stifling a scream twice a week. Scott had given up finding any meaning in the dream. He figured the nightmare was fueled by his problems with Melany and from getting used to Zoë. Scott threw himself into his work and watched and waited for a solution.

A light at the end of the tunnel took the form of an invitation to a Halloween party. Sara was friends with several members of a sorority that threw an enormous party complete with a costume contest every year. Sara and Melany received invitations for themselves and a guest each. Melany extended the invitation to Scott. She was aware of the tension between them, and made time for them to plan their costumes together. They quickly came up with a good idea, but it required sewing and props. During the week of Halloween they spent the evenings that Scott was in Madison scavenging materials and assembling their costumes together. The tension between them eased.

 

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"Hey, who do you think you're calling a 'nerf-herder'?" Scott called to someone on the other side of the door. Melany smiled, and Scott rapped on the door to her dorm room. She lifted the hem of her long white skirts, moved to the door, and opened it. Scott, wearing a collared white long-sleeved shirt, black vest and boots, and navy pants with a red stripe down each leg, struck a heroic pose in the doorway. A "blaster" was holstered on his hip. "Your Highness," Scott said, bowing elaborately. He straightened and smiled broadly at her.

Melany put her hands on her hips and lifted her chin. "Han," she said haughtily, but couldn't suppress a grin.

"You look beautiful," Scott said sincerely. Melany dropped the Princess Leia act and stepped back to let Scott inside. "How'd you get your hair to stay?" Scott asked as he strode inside.

Melany touched the coils of hair on each side of her head. "Braids, bobby pins, and a lot of hairspray," she grinned.

"Yeah, don't let her near any open flames," Sara quipped. She stood in front of the mirror above her dresser adjusting the eyepatch of her pirate costume. Sara twisted around to address Scott. "Hey Scott, cool costume."

"Thanks,” he replied. "You, too. All you need is a parrot on your shoulder."

"Right here," Sara said, producing a green parrot stuffed animal from the top of the dresser. She pressed it firmly onto her right shoulder. It stayed there as she turned to face the couple with a triumphant grin.

"How'd you--" Melany began.

"The magic of velcro," Sara answered, and they laughed.

"Ready to go?" Melany asked.

"Yep," Sara replied. "Are we taking your truck, Scott?"

"As long as the princess doesn't mind squishing in the front seat," Scott said with a sidelong glance at Melany.

Melany grinned. "I supposed I can tolerate being that close to a scruffy-looking nerf-herder for a few minutes," she said, putting an arm around his waist. "Let's go."

 

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The large living room of the sorority house was filled to capacity with costumed college students. Black and orange balloons and streamers hung from the ceiling. The ultraviolet light bulbs in some of the light fixtures made white costumes luminescent.

The sorority president, a tall blonde dressed in a slinky witch costume, stood on top of the end table shoved into one corner of the room. She shouted over the crowd's chatter. "And for the last award of the evening…" The throng quieted. "The best couples costume award goes to--" She glanced at the sheet of notebook paper in her hand. "Princess Leia and Han Solo, otherwise known as Melany and Scott!" The partygoers whooped and applauded. The sorority president held a papier mâché ball and chain above her head and searched the crowd for the winners.

Melany wanted to shrink into a corner. "C'mon!" Scott said, smiling. He grabbed her hand and headed for the makeshift podium. Melany lagged behind. Scott glanced back, saying "Don't worry, they won't bite." Melany followed reluctantly.

Scott accepted the award and turned to face the audience. Melany stood shyly beside him. "As the princess's escort, I'd like to thank you on the behalf of the rebel alliance for your support." The crowd laughed. Scott glanced at Melany. "Leia?" he prompted.

"May the Force be with you all," Melany said in the best regal voice she could muster. The crowd laughed with them again.

"And if any of you have any… merchandise you need transported," Scott grinned, "please make arrangements with the tall, hairy guy in the other room." The partygoers roared, and Melany and Scott stepped back into the crowd.

The party started up again. Someone shouted a request at the self-appointed DJ, and dance music poured from the speakers. Some of the students resumed dancing, while others headed for the keg in the kitchen.

Melany and Scott weaved through the dancers to a less crowded part of the room. Melany looked up at Scott. "You were great," she said.

"You weren't too bad yourself," Scott smiled. "I know that was hard for you. I hope it wasn't too torturous."

"Gets easier every time," Melany said. She reached for the papier mâché ball and chain, which Scott handed to her. "We'll just have to keep winning awards so I can practice accepting them," she joked.

"Take good care of that thing," Sara called to them. Sara and two of her friends in the sorority, Denise and Laura, joined them.

"We need it back for next year," Denise, a petite brunette, said with a smile. She was dressed in a pink and red genie costume and carried a shiny brass lamp. "You'll have to top those costumes to take it home next year."

The five of them chatted about the other winning costumes and how well the party was going. As they talked the room grew crowded from people drifting back from the kitchen. A young man sporting a suit and a Richard Nixon mask bumped into them. Beer sloshed from his plastic cup on Melany and the ball and chain award. "Oh, sorry guys," Nixon apologized.

Melany shook the beer from her sleeve and the award. "That's okay," she said. Nixon wandered off.

"Lemme take this out to the car," Scott volunteered. Melany handed him the award. Scott squeezed her hand and smiled at her, then turned and headed for the front door. Melany watched him go, half-listening to the conversation that had resumed around her. The Blues Brothers, a cowboy, and a ninja stopped Scott halfway to the door. The ninja brandished his katana, and Scott drew his blaster, laughing.

Melany thought about how much better both of their lives were now, compared to when they'd first met in Montana. The problems that had cropped up between them over the past few months seemed trivial in comparison. Scott shook his blaster at the cowboy in a mock threat and continued to the door. It will all work out, love, she thought. Scott hesitated at the door.

"Yoo-hoo, Mel!" Sara said loudly.

Melany's attention snapped back to the conversation. "What?" she said, chagrined.

"I asked you how long you guys have been together," Laura, a plump redhead, said. She twirled the star-tipped wand of her fairy costume. "A while, I take it," she smiled.

"A little over a year," Melany blushed.

"They're still in the honeymoon phase, obviously," Sara teased.

Melany smiled wryly at her roommate. "And that's fine with me," she retorted. "So, where's your current love interest?"

Sara nodded toward the far corner of the room. "Kevin, in the MIB costume. We're going to the Hoop in a little while."

"You're leaving already?" Denise asked.

"Well, your neighbors usually call the cops just after midnight," Sara said.

"Yeah," Laura admitted. "We've tried to work things out with them." Laura described their diplomatic efforts with the older couple across the street that didn't appreciate the noise from the sorority's parties.

Mel! Melany heard Scott call. She looked around, but didn't see him. Melany! He sounded as if he was right next to her. The front door opened, and Scott stuck his head inside. He motioned for her to join him outside.

"Would you excuse me for a minute?" Melany said to the girls. She held up her skirts and crossed the room to the front door. She smiled at the few people who shouted "Leia!" as she passed.

Melany stepped out onto the sorority house's front porch and closed the door behind her. Her breath formed tiny clouds in the cold autumn air. She shivered and crossed her arms, grateful for the extra folds of fabric of her costume. She spotted Scott leaning against the railing in the corner of the porch to her right. He was grinning like he'd been up to something.

"What's so important that we have to discuss it out here in the freezing cold?" Melany asked. "And how did you throw your voice like that?"

Scott strode towards her. "I didn't," he said with barely-contained excitement, "and neither did you!"

"What are you talking about?" Melany asked, a little annoyed.

Scott gently grasped Melany's forearms and looked at her intently. This, she heard his voice say. Then she realized that his mouth hadn't formed the word. Her eyes grew wide. Scott smiled broadly. She felt his happiness and wonder.

Fear gripped Melany. "Stop it!" she shouted, knocking his hands away. Scott looked bewildered. Melany backed up a step, and noticed that his hands were empty. "Where's your sphere?" she demanded.

"In my pocket," Scott said. He looked at her with concern. "I didn't use it. That's the whole point, Mel. You did it, too."

Melany wasn't listening. Anger had replaced fear. She pinned him with a cold stare. "You said you'd never do anything like that without me knowing," she said furiously.

Scott watched Melany warily. "But I couldn't be sure unless--"

"You 'couldn't be sure'. Terrific," Melany said caustically. "What other experiments have I been a guinea pig for?" Her eyes flashed dangerously.

"None!" Scott exclaimed, completely taken aback. He lowered his voice. "Look, Mel, I'm sorry. I didn't think--"

"No, you certainly didn't think. I know you're special, and that you can do all this neat stuff, but it doesn't give you the right to rummage around inside my head. So just stay out of my head, and stay the hell away from me!" Scott stared at her, flabbergasted.

Melany turned away and stormed back inside. The joviality of the party contrasted sharply with her confusion and anger. She felt tears welling. Cursing at the long skirts of her costume, Melany dashed up the stairs for some privacy. The bathroom was empty, and she shut herself inside. She sobbed softly, wondering how five minutes could completely turn everything around.

The soft knock on the door was almost drowned out by the music downstairs. "Can I come in, Mel?" Sara asked. Melany dried her eyes with her non-beer stained sleeve.

"Yeah," she said.

Sara stepped inside and closed the door. "Are you all right?" she asked gently. Melany looked at her wanly. "Okay, that was a stupid question. I saw you run upstairs a minute ago, and then Scott came inside. He told me that he had to leave, and asked if we had a ride back to the dorm. He looked upset. I told him we'd take a taxi if necessary and not to worry about it. He told me to tell you that he's sorry."

"Yeah, well, sorry's not going to cut it," Melany said bitterly.

"What happened? He didn't hurt you, did he?" Sara asked.

"No, not physically, anyway," Melany said despondently. "It's going to be a while before I can trust him again."

Sara looked alarmed. "What happened?" she repeated.

"We had a fight, a big one." Melany looked at Sara sadly. "I really don't want to talk about it or even think about it right now. I'm going to go back to the dorm. Sleep sounds really good right now."

"I'll go with you," Sara said.

"Thanks, but I'll be okay. You and Kevin go out." Melany checked her watch and forced a smile. "The neighbors should be breaking things up just about now. I'll take a taxi back."

"All right," Sara agreed reluctantly, "if that's what you want." They went into the hallway towards the stairs.

"Sara?" Melany shouted over the din of the party.

"Yeah?

"If Scott calls for me tomorrow, I'm not in."

"Gotcha.

###  **Chapter 4: Juncture**

Footsteps crunched on the gravel drive. Paul looked up from the camera gear he was stowing in the back seat of the four wheel drive wagon. Scott strode towards him, shrugging on his winter jacket and trying not to look as depressed as he felt. It wasn't working, and he knew it. Nevertheless, Paul smiled as he shut the car door. "Change your mind about the festival, Scott?"

"I guess. As strange as it sounds, I think it'll be interesting."

"Me, too. Besides, I wouldn't mind the company for the drive to Chicago and back. Are you ready to go?"

"Um-hum," Scott nodded and climbed into the passenger seat. Paul got behind the wheel and headed towards the interstate.

 

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Scott couldn't stand it any longer. After an hour of sporadic smalltalk it was clear that Paul wasn't going to make it easy for him and bring up his problem with Melany. "Dad, I think that Melany and I are breaking up," Scott blurted out.

Paul glanced at his son with concern. "Why? What's going on?"

"Well, it's 'cause of our different schedules, and she's so busy with school, and, well…" Scott stammered, "… me."

Paul frowned slightly as he drove. "You?"

Scott sighed from his father's Socrates act. "Yeah, me." Scott took a breath and dove in. "Things have been really strained lately. It's so frustrating to watch college take up so much of her time. I mean, I'm glad that she's enjoying college and doing so well and making new friends, but I miss the way it was this past year. It was like we had all the time in the world to go hiking, see concerts, or just hang out here or at the Keitzer’s. But now she squeezes me in between labs, the seminar, going out with her hallmates, and studying for the quiz du jour." Scott heard the anger in his voice and paused.

"Doesn't it mean something that she's 'squeezing you in'?" Paul asked with a sidelong glance.

"Yeah, it does," Scott conceded. "I think the thing that's getting me so worked up is that she's on her way to becoming a doctor, and I'm going nowhere." Paul shot a worried glance at Scott. "Don't get me wrong -- Melany will make a terrific doctor. It's just so incredibly ironic that I can already heal lots of the injuries and illnesses that she works so hard to learn about just 'cause of who I am, and we both know it!" Scott could tell from his father's furrowed eyebrows that he hadn't thought of this previously. "And to make matters worse, I don't want to become a doctor, let alone some psychic healer on a late-night infomercial." Paul almost interrupted to ask for a definition of "infomercial" but thought better of it.

Scott continued, "I mean, I want to help people, but without drawing a lot of attention to myself, or you, Mom, or Melany. So that leaves Mel studying her brains out to learn what I already know, and me working Evan's farm and taking a few classes that I don't know if I'll ever use."

Paul wasn't sure what to say. He knew that Scott was going through a rough time but hadn't realized its magnitude until now. "Is Melany as upset about your … skills … as you are?"

Scott thought for a moment. "No, I don't think so. She seems to accept the irony of it all better than I do. I still marvel that she accepts us as readily as she does." A small, faraway smile spread across Scott's face only to vanish as quickly as it had arrived. Scott looked at his hands fidgeting on his lap. "But I think I screwed that up, too."

Now Paul was alarmed. He quickly passed a slow-moving car and looked at Scott earnestly. "What happened, Scott? Is Melany all right?"

Scott didn't meet his father's gaze. "She's okay, she just isn't talking to me for… I don't know how long." Scott paused. "The thing is that Melany and I have been developing some sort of connection -- telepathy, I guess -- over the past few months." Scott quickly glanced Paul, catching his reaction of mild but pleasant surprise. "Do you know what I'm talking about? I mean, does that happen between you and Mom?"

Paul smiled. "Yes, sometimes. Your mother doesn't like communicating that way too often, though."

"Then that's what I did wrong." Scott's words tumbled out. "The first few times we did it neither of us really noticed it. I had 'sent' Mel something, but we both thought that I'd said it out loud. Then the other night at the party, she thought something to me. I'm sure she didn't do it consciously. It was exciting, but kind of scary."

Paul smiled sympathetically. "Then what?"

Scott frowned. "I decided to tell her, thinking that it might help with the problems we've been having. She met me outside the sorority house, where it was relatively quiet. I didn't know what to say, so I just thought something to her, and she heard me." Scott shifted in his seat. "That was a big mistake. She was angry, and scared. Mel demanded to know what other 'tests' I'd been conducting without her knowledge. I tried to explain that I hadn't meant it like that, but she wasn’t listening. She stormed back inside and hasn't spoken to me since. I think Melany doesn't trust me now, and that's the worst of it all." Scott swallowed and stared out the car window at the approaching Chicago skyline. "I have absolutely no idea what to do."

Paul's frown deepened, partially from his son's debacle and partially from the increasing volume of traffic as they drove into Chicago's city limits. Paul glanced at his son briefly. "I wish I had an answer for you, Scott. What if you…" Paul searched for one of Scott's colloquialisms "… give her some space for a while? That's worked in the past."

Scott turned towards his father and smiled bitterly. "You know how much space this one's gonna take? Probably from here to Madison!" He resumed his watch out of the passenger window. "I'll just leave her be. Maybe it'll be good for us to take a break for a while." Neither of them was convinced by Scott's last statement.

 

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The two drove in silence for the next few minutes while heading south into downtown Chicago. Steel blue Lake Michigan stretched into the distance to the east. The wind off the lake buffeted the car. On their right a labyrinth of suburban neighborhoods sprawled westward. Soon a parade of older red brick residences, rusting warehouses, stoic glass office buildings, and glittering skyscrapers streamed past them on both sides.

Scott broke the silence. "Where is the Dia de los Muertos festival, Dad? In 'Little Mexico' or something?" Paul's puzzled look prompted an explanation from Scott. "Like 'Little Italy' -- an ethnically Mexican part of town."

"Oh. No, not 'Little Mexico'. It's in a neighborhood called Pilsen, where a lot of people of Mexican descent live. It should be right over there--" Paul pointed to the southwest "-- on 18th Street." Paul shook open a Chicago streetmap that lay on the seat between them and offered it to Scott. Scott studied the map as Paul took the 18th Street exit.

 

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Traffic was heavy and congested for a Saturday morning. Pedestrians' brightly colored hats and clothing told them that they weren't the only ones attending the parade. After covering only three blocks in ten minutes, Paul and Scott parked the car in the next available parking spot. After Paul donned his camera and Scott took the camera bag and fed the parking meter, they joined the throng heading west down 18th Street.

Pilsen was a kaleidoscope of sounds, aromas, and colors. Vibrant geometric murals adorned nearly every building, from cafes to health clinics. Mariachi and other traditional Mexican music mingled with tens of conversations in Spanish and English. Some of the Latino spectators claiming places along the parade route had donned skeleton or devil costumes for the occasion. Many of the others wore brightly colored casual clothes and festive hats. The strong breeze carried the scents of steamed corn and tamales from street vendors' carts. Intricately cut multicolored paper banners decorated many of the street level businesses and the apartments above them. Windowsills displayed framed photographs, food, and flowers along with colorful handmade sculptures of dancing skeletons, devils, and grinning skulls. Scott couldn't decide if they were whimsical or ghoulish. He did a doubletake upon seeing a young boy in a skeleton costume happily nibbling on a candy skull with tin foil eyes.

Despite his research about the holiday, Paul was equally engrossed by his surroundings. He was torn between wanting to observe everything and searching for good subjects for his book. Scott pulled his father closer. "Dad," Scott said quietly as they moved with the crowd, "what is this holiday, anyway? I thought that Mexicans honored their ancestors on the Day of the Dead. This is more like a Tim Burton movie!"

"Who's Tim Bur--" Scott gave Paul his "I'll explain later" look as the crowd slowed to a stop. They were nearly shoulder to shoulder with Pilsen residents and other out-of-towners. Paul and Scott peered down the street. The sidewalks along the parade route ahead were filled to capacity with onlookers. Scott craned his neck looking for signs that the parade was approaching. His attention was captured by a lithe Mexican woman pushing through the crowd. She wore a form-fitting skeleton costume topped with a contorted skull mask. From the face that Scott was making from the combination of the woman's figure and her ghoulish costume, Scott was thoroughly distracted. Paul saw a chance to "kill two birds with one stone". He gently contacted Scott's mind. Scott, you asked about people honoring their ancestors during this holiday?

Uh-huh. Scott seemed unaware of his mental reply. Paul continued his explanation.

These people are honoring their dead. The carvings, pictures, food, and flowers in the windows are ofrendas - offerings of their ancestors' favorite things - for the dead to enjoy. Paul paused. Scott still hadn't noticed. As the skull-masked woman was enveloped by the crowd Scott turned to his father. Paul continued, Some people believe that the dead come back to visit them on November 1st and 2nd. Others use the holiday to gather together to celebrate life and remember their ancestors.

"Keep your voice down," Scott hissed, pointedly glancing at the crowd surrounding them. "That's…" Scott's eyes grew large as he realized that Paul hadn't said a word. He took a step back, nearly bumping into the middle-aged man behind him. "… rude." Regret painted Scott's face. "Melany," he muttered, lost in thought.

Paul touched Scott's shoulder to get his attention. "I'm going to get some good pictures before the parade starts," he said. "I'll be right back." Scott nodded absently.

Paul let Scott battle his own demons, and resumed his search for good photo subjects. A portrait of a radiant Virgin Mary hanging from a store front about 20 feet away caught his eye. As he made his way to the painting Paul exchanged greetings with the Dia de los Muertos celebrants. Several wearing ornately cut paper garlands over their coats and hats happily posed for Paul to take their pictures to show off their handiwork.

A few feet further down the sidewalk a thirty-something Latino street vendor peddled Pan de Muerto, the bread of the dead, from a small metal cart. "Two, please," Paul said to the man in Spanish. The man neatly wrapped two pieces of the sweet bread in plain paper and took his payment. Paul smiled and said "My son " - the vendor's eyes darted to the top of the cart momentarily - " should be… intrigued by the candy bones on top." Paul followed the man's gaze at the word "son" to one corner of the cart. Half-hidden behind the loaves of Pan de Muerto on top of a white cloth napkin was a tiny ofrenda: a small bouquet of marigolds, two homemade cookies, a scuffed baseball, and 5" x 7" silver picture frame. A dark-haired young boy missing one of his two front teeth grinned from the school portrait in the silver frame. "Is that your son?" Paul asked.

"Yes." The man replied. He looked at the picture. "He died in a car accident last year. I miss him." The man looked up at Paul with a wry grin. "He'd better appreciate these cookies his mother made, or she'll have a fit!"

Paul supposed that this was an example of Day of the Dead celebrators confronting, challenging, and accepting death simultaneously, although he didn't quite understand the concept. "My name's Paul," Paul said extending his hand. The vendor shook it and introduced himself as Hiram. Paul continued, "I'm working on a photo essay on the Day of the Dead. May I take your picture, and pictures of your business and perhaps of your ofrenda?"

"Of course!" the man readily replied. "Juan and I would be honored." Paul spent a few minutes photographing Hiram, his wares, and the ofrenda .

After Hiram and Paul exchanged goodbyes Paul pocketed the wrapped pieces of bread in his jacket and worked his way through the throng to the portrait of Mary. The vivid green, red, and gold circular Mayan-style mural decorating the wall behind the portrait made a startling but complimentary backdrop. Paul maneuvered around Dia de los Muertos celebrants to take several shots of Mary and her technicolor background. While taking the last three pictures, Paul heard the tinny sound of distant music, humming car engines, and the renewed energy of the crowd announcing the approach of the parade.

Paul pushed his way back to his son, who hadn't moved while Paul was working. Scott greeted his father with a small smile. With a determined look on his face Scott thought to his father, My reaction to our 'conversation' before -- do you think that's how Melany felt?

Perhaps, Paul replied. Scott reacted, not yet accustomed to hearing his father's thoughts. This form of communication is natural to me, and much simpler than speaking. What did it feel like to you before?

After a few false starts Scott thought to his father, It was strange. I felt defenseless, like I had no privacy. And that was with you! If it bothered me that much, I can't imagine what it was like for Melany. I guess I'll have to talk about it with her, and see if she wants to try it again. That is, if she'll talk to me about anything again. Scott started to slip back into a funk.

"She will, Scott. I'm sure of it," Paul said.

The cacophony of the parade crescendoed as it turned the corner onto 18th Street. The crowd pressed westward towards the parade. Paul noticed that the shadows cast by the surrounding buildings obscured the faces of the marchers.

"The light's better on the other side of the street," Paul commented. "Let's cross so I can get some good pictures of the parade." Scott nodded. The two moved towards the orange and white striped wooden barricades separating the crowded sidewalk from the street.

 

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Scott reached the barricades first. Swinging his leg over the barrier, he nearly kicked a delivery man who was hopping the barrier from the opposite direction. "Would ya watch it, kid!" the man exclaimed with a thick Chicago accent.

"Sorry," Scott said grudgingly and hopped the barrier. Something about the man nagged at Scott. He looked back as Paul climbed over the barricade. The delivery man rapped on the scarlet door of a health clinic. The door opened and the delivery man handed a letter-sized package to someone inside. Then it all clicked.

"RUN!" Scott shouted, grabbed Paul's arm, and sprinted across the street dragging his father with him.

"Scott! What's--" The base rumble of an explosion cut Paul off. The blast pushed Scott to the ground. The bare skin of his face, hands, and neck was lashed by sand, shards of glass, and broken bits of masonry. He felt something sharp pierce his jacket and embed itself in his back.

It was over as suddenly as it had happened. An unsettling stillness replaced the festivities, perforated by moans, sobs, and the patter of glass and sand raining to the ground. "Dad…?" Scott called. There was no reply.

Scott carefully got to his hands and knees. Pain screamed from the wound on the right side of his back. Adrenaline allowed Scott to pull the irregular shard of window glass from his back. Scott tossed the bloody fragment aside and held his hand over the gash to stop the bleeding. He didn't feel anything else that needed immediate attention.

Scott looked around. He knelt near the edge of the now-deserted sidewalk on the south side of the street. Paul's camera lay to his left. Scott absently picked it up and put the camera strap around his neck. Paul lie on his back a few feet ahead of Scott. Although his arms and legs were sprawled awkwardly, he appeared to be unharmed. "Dad!" Scott tried again as he got up on wobbly legs. Paul didn't answer.

Scott rushed to his father and knelt down besides him. Paul's breathing was shallow and he had a few abrasions, but there were no obvious major injuries. Scott fished his sphere out of his jeans pocket. For once he didn't care if anyone saw him use it. Before he could connect with it Scott heard his father's thoughts in his mind. Move me into the alley. He sounded haggard. Scott realized that Paul still hadn't moved. Holding his sphere tightly in his fist, Scott hooked his arms under Paul's and gently lifted his torso off the ground. Scott noticed the blood matting the hair at the base of Paul's skull. Panic rose, but Scott forced it down and dragged his father into the alley.

Scott lay Paul down behind a jumbled pile of collapsed cardboard boxes and squatted beside him. He connected with his sphere and began examining his father's body. Scott gasped aloud at the extent of damage Paul's brain and spinal cord had sustained. Connected with his sphere, Scott clearly felt his father's mental contact. This body is dying. I cannot stay.

No! Scott protested. We can fix it! We can heal the injuries between the two of us.

It's too much, Scott. The top vertebra is crushed. The spinal cord there is damaged. Part of the brain is hemorrhaging. Paul's breathing became labored. I must separate from this body now, or die with it. Tendrils of blue mist rose from Paul's body. Scott gaped as they coalesced into a softly glowing blue haze before him.

Scott stared wide-eyed at the luminous form hovering above Paul's body. Nothing could better exemplify his father's incongruity with this world. Ever since he'd accepted Paul's origins four years ago, Scott had wondered how he'd react to seeing his father's true form. Initially the thought had frightened him. As he got to know Paul the fear was gradually replaced with curiosity. Scott had figured he'd be at least a little weirded out in this situation. Instead, Scott found himself accepting the azure glow before him as his father instead of the body it hung motionlessly above.

Something inside Scott stirred. The calm confidence that he hadn't experienced for so long returned. I won't give up this easily, he thought to his father. Scott recalled details from textbooks, illustrations, and his own knowledge of the nervous system and bone structure and directed them to Paul. Help me, try with me, please! Scott pleaded.

The blue haze shimmered. A swirling rush of energy, thoughts, and emotions flooded Scott's mind. The direct, continuous contact with his father's mind was exhilarating. Scott received Paul's knowledge about the injured areas in a single pulse of ideas. Together they reformed the crushed vertebra, healed the ruptured cells, repaired the damaged tissues, and directed the subcutaneous pools of blood into the lymph system.

Father and son examined the body. Its breathing and heartbeat were normal. The other vital organs were functioning. Something was wrong with the brain, however. The impulses leaving the brain seemed scrambled. I cannot inhabit this body, Paul thought. The brain is unstable. I will not be conscious if I return to it. The autonomic system will probably fail eventually as well.

Scott disconnected from his sphere and put it in his pocket. He looked from the body to his father. He'd only known his father for a third of his life. Scott wasn't about to let him slip away now. He searched determinedly for a way out of this quandary. Can you clone another body? he asked Paul abruptly.

No, it requires too much energy. I would die trying.

Can you live here without a human body?

No. I would starve to death. The energy that a host body produces feeds me, in essence.

Scott came up with tens of questions for each of Paul's replies, but he put them aside for now. The solution came to Scott suddenly. He leveled a determined look at the luminescent blue mist. Use my body, Scott thought to his father.

Paul's surprise resounded in Scott's mind. No. It's too dangerous.

Why? What could happen?

You would die! Scott, you don't understand. Right now your consciousness and your body are in equilibrium. Your consciousness consumes the excess energy your body produces. I would be drawing as much energy from your body as I did from this one. Your body cannot produce enough energy for both of us, no matter how many calories you ingest. I would starve you and we both would die.

Scott considered the sobering situation. A plan began to take shape in his mind. How long could I survive if you… joined me?

No, Scott. It's out of the question.

How long?! Scott demanded.

A few days, a week -- I'm not sure. None of my race has ever attempted it.

Okay. There's a way we can fully heal your body so you can stay. Paul's surprise rippled again through Scott's mind. We can't fully repair the head injuries because we don't know enough about the brain to fix it properly. Melany probably does, though. We've got to get back to Madison and get her help. It's only 2 1/2 hours back. Your body should remain stable for that long, and I should be able to take a few hours of you riding piggyback. Before Paul finished asking the question, Scott sent his father the definition of "riding piggyback". Scott grinned despite the gravity of the situation. Besides, judging from this experience, it should be quite a rush!

Are you sure you want to do this? What if Melany can't help?

Look, you left your home, traveled to this planet to be hunted by the government for four years, and put up with my surly teenage behavior all because I called you. Of course I want to do this! And if Melany can't help us, well… we'll deal with that when the time comes.

Gratitude, love, and admiration filled Scott's mind. I'm so glad you came back, Scott expressed with the same sentiment.

Me, too. Paul agreed.

C'mon, Scott thought to his father, before I change my mind!

The luminous blue mist enveloped Scott. His hairs stood on end and skin tingled as the haze soaked into him. Scott's whole body felt like pins and needles. After a disturbing minute or two feeling slowly returned, along with a growing awareness of his father's consciousness alongside his own. As the sensory information from his skin, nerves, and muscles registered one by one, Scott felt Paul's mind processing the data in an abstract and complex flurry of ideas. Some of it he understood, while other parts of it were incomprehensible. Scott felt as if he were listening in on a rapid-fire conversation in a language he only half understood.

As his mind tried to manage the extra input from Paul's consciousness, Scott felt his father's energy disseminate through his body. Feeling giddy and lightheaded, Scott sat down heavily. The gash in his back throbbed and began pulsing fresh blood. Scott felt alarm and a new rush of thoughts from his father. Some of Paul's energy concentrated around the gash, mollifying the pain. Scott objectively watched his father speed up his body's natural healing process. The wound healed without a scar. For the first time Scott completely understood the process without relying on intuition. It all made sense.

As Scott sat in stunned realization, he distantly felt his remaining cuts and abrasions healing. Scott! Paul's thought brought Scott out of his reverie. He blinked and looked around. The sight of Paul's unconscious body sobered Scott quickly. The wailing sirens in the distance were steadily getting louder.

Scott, we've got to get moving. Paul's thoughts were disturbingly close. It was like expecting to hear a voice on the telephone, but having them sneak up and speak into your ear instead. You've lost some blood, so get up slowly. Scott shuddered, and felt his father deliberately ignore his reaction. Scott's eyes went wide. This was going to be much more of a piggyback ride than he'd imagined.

Scott carefully rose to his feet. As he tested his balance, they exchanged ideas on how to get out of the city without attracting too much attention. Scott still found the direct contact with Paul's mind disconcerting, but he was getting used to it. Thanks to their mental contact, their plan took shape in the minute it took for Scott to feel steady on his feet.

Scott took a few steps. His legs felt weak. Paul interjected, There's some Pan de Muerto in my right jacket pocket. Eat some. You'll need it. And get my sphere from my pocket, just in case.

Scott squatted down to retrieve Paul's sphere and the sweet bread. He pocketed the sphere with his own and got the Pan de Muerto. Scott unwrapped one package and grimaced at the black and white candy bones on top of the bread. "Bread of the dead"? As if this weren't creepy enough already, Dad… Paul shrugged mentally. Scott bit into the bread. It was rich, sweet, and gone in three big bites.

The sounds of people helping the injured and moving debris drifted into the alley. Footsteps approached their hiding place. Scott froze, hoping that no one would look down the alley and discover him and his father's unconscious body. The footfalls hurried past the entrance of the alleyway. Scott exhaled loudly. All right, he thought to Paul, let's do it.

Scott again looped his arms under the body's shoulders and pulled it off the ground. After some awkward shrugging and lifting, Scott got Paul's body leaning against him and more or less standing. Scott's left arm held tightly on to Paul's torso. Paul's right arm draped loosely across Scott's shoulders. Scott hoped that with a little help from his father, the body's lack of coordination would be mistaken for a drunken stupor.

The spheres in Scott's pocket hummed to life. Here goes nothing, Scott thought and took a step forward. Paul's body took a stumbling step forward as well. Despite the assistance of their spheres, Scott felt his father straining to coordinate the multiple muscle movements of his unconscious body. Scott worked to keep his balance. By the time they'd reached the mouth of the alley they'd developed a rough coordination.

Scott stepped out onto 18th Street and took a moment to gauge the situation. The parade floats sat abandoned half of a block to the west. Costumed Dia de los Muertos celebrants attended to the fifteen or so injured on the ground, with the exception of two still, covered bodies. Just a few seconds later and this would have been a lot worse, Scott thought. He wanted to help, but knew that he'd only put Paul's and his own lives more at risk than they already were.

Scott resolutely headed east as fast as he and Paul could manage. The sirens suddenly grew louder as two ambulances turned onto the road a few blocks in front of them and sped by. Pilsen residents emerged from their homes to investigate the commotion. Although many of them gave Paul and Scott suspicious looks, no one hindered their progress. With each step Scott was more grateful that the car was only two blocks away.

Sweat glistened on Scott's brow as he approached the car. Paul's effort in animating his unconscious body was draining Scott more than the exertion of supporting it. Scott felt Paul tiring as well. Almost there, he encouraged. Scott focused on the car parked twenty feet ahead of them.

The weight of Paul's body lightened suddenly. "Here, man, let me help you," said a voice to his left. Scott stopped short and turned to face the interloper. A clean-cut young Latino man wearing a Bulls jacket, jeans, and sneakers supported the body's left side. He looked from the body to Scott. "Had one too many this morning, huh?" he said with a knowing smile.

"Uh-huh," Scott said noncommittally. He searched for a way to lose this good Samaritan.

The young man glanced at Paul's camera hanging by its strap around Scott's neck. "I hope you got some good blackmail pictures," he grinned. The man nodded at Paul's car. "That your car?" he asked, looking at Scott.

"Ye--" Scott began. Images flashed in Scott's mind - the car, Paul's camera, and Paul's wedding band. This guy was about to mug him! Adrenaline-fueled anger boiled in Scott. Scott distantly noticed Paul's surprise. He fixed cold eyes on the "Samaritan". "Don't you have something better to do, like holding up the nearest 7-Eleven?" Scott said icily. He briefly touched the delinquent's mind with a sample of his anger and underlying desperation.

The young man blanched. Fear radiated from him like a beacon. "Um… ah… sorry--" the young man stammered as he disentangled himself from Paul's body and set off at a dead run. Scott watched him until he disappeared down the nearest sidestreet.

As his adrenaline waned, Scott realized what he'd done and more significantly, some of the things he could have done. Feeling a little shaky, Scott readjusted the body's weight against him. C'mon, he thought to his father. The car's right there. They moved the remaining few feet to the car.

Standing in front of the back passenger-side door, Scott fumbled for his keys. Are you all right, Scott? Paul asked.

Yes and no. Scott was having trouble selecting the right key while supporting Paul's body. If he didn't get them into the car quickly they'd be sure to attract attention.

Just touch the lock, Paul thought gently.

I don't know how-- Scott protested. Oh. Scott grasped the door handle with his right hand and touched the lock with his thumb. He felt his father send energy into the lock to manipulate the mechanism. The door unlocked with a soft clunk.

Got it? Paul asked.

Yeah. Scott decided to contemplate the new spin on their teacher-student relationship later. Let's get out of here, he thought to his father and opened the back car door.

It was awkward, but they got Paul's body lying across the back seat. Paul silenced the spheres. Scott deposited Paul's camera on the floor of the back seat and closed the door. Without Paul's body to support and the energy supplied to the spheres, Scott felt a hundred pounds lighter. He hurried to the driver's side door, opened it, and gratefully slid behind the wheel of the car. Scott quickly closed and locked the door and leaned back with his eyes closed. I just need a few minutes, Dad, and we'll get on the road. Scott thought. He wasn't feeling so good.

###  **Chapter 5: Tandem**

Paul waited with growing concern while his son rested. The din of passing ambulances and police cars was barely noticeable over the tumult of Scott's mind, which churned with worry bordering on anxiety. Paul overheard his son's fears - that he would leave, of one of both of their deaths, and of Jenny losing them again. Moments of concern and love for Paul were accompanied by outrage over the loss of his privacy and worry of Paul's disapproval his thoughts.

Scott's turmoil astounded Paul. He shared Scott's fears, but not the emotional whirlwind currently engulfing him. Paul tried to buffer the mental connection with his son but was unsuccessful. Cloning and inhabiting a body was one thing; sharing one was another. Instead, Paul focused his attention on the state of Scott's body. Aside from being a little hungry, Scott was not suffering physically from their union.

Paul was surprised to find that his relief over Scott's physical health was tempered by a sort of homesickness. Scott's body felt wrong. His long legs were bent uncomfortably close to the dashboard. His hair was shorter than Paul was used to. Those and a thousand more obvious and subtle differences suddenly stood out. Have I grown that attached to Paul Forrester's body in four years? he wondered. Have I become that human? Paul found the notion unsettling.

Scott sat up and rubbed his eyes. Paul felt Scott quelling the storm of negative emotions with grim determination. Scott's attention turned to Paul. Dad, are you okay? Scott asked.

Yes and no, Paul replied half-jokingly. A sense of humor was another thing Paul had acquired from his time on Earth, along with emotions. Paul was not enjoying the latter at the moment. He suppressed his own apprehension for both his and Scott's sake. Let's get going so we can find Melany, Paul thought.

Scott moved the driver's seat back, started the car, and pulled out onto the congested boulevard. After a few minutes of stop and go traffic they joined the anonymous stream of cars speeding north on the interstate. Paul tried not to distract his son with his own thoughts by focusing on the road ahead. Scott began fidgeting nervously. "This brings backseat driving to a whole new level," he muttered. Scott switched on the wagon's radio and scanned the FM stations. He found a fast-paced rock song and turned the volume as high as it would go. I may go deaf in the process, Scott told his father, but I need something simple to concentrate on to get us home in one piece. Paul felt Scott's attention divide neatly between driving and the pounding music. They settled in for a very long two-hour ride.

 

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Jenny heard the wagon skid briefly out of the turn onto the gravel driveway. Sounds like Scott drove back, she thought to herself. She smiled at Zoë, who had just fallen asleep in her arms, and idly wondered why Paul and Scott were back so soon. I guess the festival wasn't what Paul had hoped. Jenny rose carefully out of the rocker and set the sleeping child in the crib. She closed the nursery door gently behind her and headed outside to greet Paul and Scott.

Glancing at the wagon from the front steps, Jenny realized that something was wrong. Scott sat behind the wheel with his head back and his eyes closed. Paul wasn’t with him. She pulled on her jacket as she hurried over to the car. "Scott?" she asked as she stepped up to the driver's side door. Scott didn't stir. Jenny saw Paul lying unconscious across the back seat. "Scott!" she shouted and grabbed the door handle. It was locked. She jiggled it futilely.

Scott blinked, turned toward Jenny, and opened the door. "Mom," he said softly as stepped out of the wagon. Scott met Jenny's distraught look with grave expression of his own.

Jenny was torn between making sure that Scott was okay and rushing over to Paul. "What happened?! Are you okay? What's wrong with your father?"

"There's been an accident," Scott said deliberately, "and Dad's been hurt. Help me get him inside, okay?" He reached inside the car and unlocked the back door.

"Inside!?" Jenny exclaimed, "We should get him to a hospital!" Jenny noticed the bloodstained tear in the back of Scott's coat. "Oh my god, you're hurt, too," she said. Scott followed her gaze to the torn, stained part of his jacket.

"It's okay," Scott assured her, "that's taken care of." He opened the back door. Jenny looked worriedly at Paul lying motionlessly in the back of the wagon.

"Give me the keys, Scott. We're going to the hospital," Jenny stated resolutely.

Scott turned towards her. "Mom, we can't," he began. Scott took her hands in his, and suddenly squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head.

Jenny's apprehension turned to anger. "Scott, what the hell is going on?!" she demanded. She yanked her hands free and snatched the car keys from Scott's hand. Jenny pushed the back door shut and jabbed her finger towards the front passenger seat. "Get in the car and tell me on the way."

Scott didn't move. He met her eyes with a serious, sad look. "Mom, we did everything we could. A hospital won't be able to do anything more. Please, help me get him in the house. I'll explain everything inside."

Jenny's anger turned to apprehension. Silently she helped Scott wrestle Paul out of the wagon. She inhaled sharply when she saw dried blood matting the hair at the back of Paul's head. Scott carried Paul's torso while Jenny took his feet. Together they moved Paul into the house and laid him down on his and Jenny's bed.

Jenny sat on the edge of the mattress beside Paul. She touched his cheek and his forehead, felt his neck for his pulse, and watched his chest slowly rise and fall. Everything seemed normal. He seemed to be sleeping. Her worry diminished slightly. She took her jacket off and gingerly began removing Paul's.

Jenny realized that Scott hadn't said a word. She glanced up at her son. Scott stood a few feet from the bed near the window. The diffuse sunlight behind him cast him in partial silhouette. Scott watched her with a peculiar expression on his face. "All right, Scott, what's wrong with him?" Jenny asked in a firm voice. "What happened?"

Scott looked down and shifted his weight. "There was an explosion, a terrorist bombing, I guess," Scott began. Jenny's eyes grew wide in surprise. "It happened shortly after we got there, as the parade was approaching. Dad and I were crossing the street when it went off and got hit by shrapnel." Scott touched the tear in the back of his coat. "A piece of window glass got me in the back." He nodded towards Paul. "He was hit in the back of the head."

Jenny tossed Paul's leather jacket on the floor. She turned his head to the side and gently touched the base of his skull. There was no bleeding, lacerations or swelling under the matted hair. Jenny looked back at Scott. "So you healed any cuts and bruises, and he's got a concussion?" she asked hopefully.

Scott looked past Jenny out the window on the far wall. "No, it's more serious than that," Scott replied vaguely.

Jenny sat up straight and fixed her son with an exasperated look. "Spit it out, Scott. Is he dying?"

Scott abruptly met her gaze with clear, intense eyes. He resembled Paul so strongly that Jenny shivered. "Yes," he said stonily.

Jenny let out a long, shuddering breath. She thought of Zoë sleeping innocently in the next room. Are all of my children destined to grow up without their father? Jenny pushed the thought aside, refusing to give in to the panic building inside of her. "Is there anything we can do?" Jenny asked in a voice that sounded stronger than she felt.

"Yes, but we'll need Melany's help," Scott said.

"Melany?"

"Yes." Scott looked at Paul on the bed. "We healed all of the injuries we could. One of his vertebrae was crushed and parts of his spinal cord and brain were damaged. We were able to fix a lot of that, but not everything. Something's still wrong with the brain. We think that Melany can help us figure out what's wrong and how to fix it." Jenny stared at him, stupefied. A tiny smile broke Scott's serious expression. "A neurosurgeon would probably be a better choice, but it would be kinda tough to explain what the glowing silver ball bearings are."

Jenny smiled in spite of herself, but it quickly faded. Something Scott had said was nagging at her. "Scott," she said hesitantly, "why do you keep saying 'we'? Can you still communicate with him?"

Scott's smile turned ironic. "You could say that," he said. Scott moved to the bed and sat next to Jenny. "Mom, Dad came this close--" Scott held up one hand with his thumb and forefinger an inch apart, "-- to dying. His injuries were so severe that he had to separate from his body."

Jenny abruptly twisted around to face Paul. She took his hands in hers, expecting the subtle spark she felt when she touched him. There was nothing. How could I have missed that? she berated herself. Jenny turned back to Scott. "Where is he? Did he leave?"

"No, not yet. There's a little more time," Scott replied. No, not again, Jenny thought. Unbidden tears filled her eyes. "Mom," he said softly, taking Jenny's hand. She felt something as Scott's eyes squinted shut briefly. Scott placed her hand on his chest. "He's right here."

Paul's mind gently touched Jenny's. A river of relief and love passed between them. Jenny wrapped her arms around Scott as tears spilled down her face. I couldn't just leave, Paul thought, not without trying to stay. Wordless sentiment flowed between Jenny and Paul. She held on for a little while longer.

Jenny became aware of how rigidly Scott held himself. She released him and sat up straight. Although tears streaked Scott's face as well, he sat stiffly and looked overwhelmed. "I'm sorry, that must have been kind of… unsettling… for you," Jenny said to her son.

"It was… a lot," Scott said quietly. He looked like a small, frightened child.

"You hear his thoughts?" Jenny asked. Scott nodded. "And his emotions?" He nodded again. "And mine, if I touch you?" Another nod. She noticed how was pale he was, and the dark circles beneath his tired eyes. Jenny covered her hand with her sleeve and wiped the tears from Scott's cheeks. "This is taking its toll on you, isn't it?" she asked quietly.

"Yes," Scott whispered. "I don't know how long I can do this…"

"It will be long enough, I'm sure," Jenny said. Scott's stomach rumbled loudly. They both smiled. Jenny stood up. "Let's go downstairs and get you something to eat, and we'll call Melany."

"She isn't particularly wanting to talk to me," Scott said, chagrined.

"Then I'll call. I'll drag her over here if I have to," Jenny said with a smile. She turned towards the bed and looked soberly at Paul's body. On impulse she bent down and kissed it gently on the mouth. She straightened and waited for a moment. Nothing happened.

"What was that for?" Scott asked, frowning at her.

"It was worth a try, don't you think?" Jenny asked. Scott simply smiled.

 

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"She's not here, and she doesn't want to talk to you, don't you get it!?" Sara said sharply into the phone and hung up the receiver. The redhead snorted in disgust. That was the third time that Scott had called for Melany in as many hours. Each call had interrupted her studying for her organic chemistry exam on Monday. Sara was glad that she'd gone to the library to study before she'd returned to the dorm room after dinner. Judging from the messages for Melany on their voice mailbox the phone had been ringing off the hook.

Sara checked the time on her alarm clock - 8:25. Acknowledging that her brain would absorb no more information for the evening, she gathered the sheets of practice problems strewn across her desk and marked her place in the heavy textbook with them. She stood up and moved to the closet to decide what to wear for the evening. Sara wondered when Melany would get back from the seminar. She'd said they were taking the professor out for dinner to celebrate his retirement. Sara hoped that Melany would join her and her hallmates at the Hoop afterwards. Despite her efforts to hide it, Melany was really upset because of Scott. Sara knew that a night out would be the best thing for her.

Sara pulled a pair of tight-fitting jeans and a baby T-shirt from the closet and tossed them on the bed. Better leave a note for Melany before I forget, she reminded herself. Sara opened the dorm room door and grabbed the dry-erase marker attached to the message board mounted just under the peephole. "Mel, See you at THE HOOP" Sara wrote in bubbly letters. Further down she printed "A Mrs. Forrester and you-know-who called - check messages" Sara capped the marker and closed the door.

Half an hour later eight girls bundled in winter jackets had congregated in the hall near Sara and Melany's room. Sara joined them. No one noticed when one girl's coat brushed against the message board and erased the bottom half.

 

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The darkened living room flickered with the fitful light of the TV. Jenny padded into the room with a steaming cup of tea. She set the mug on the coffee table and settled into the corner of the couch. She looked at Scott sitting in the recliner to her right. The restless light cast harsh shadows on Scott's drawn features. Jenny was glad to see that he'd fallen asleep finally. TV hadn't provided much of a distraction as they waited impatiently for Melany to return. Jenny fought back the urge to get in her car and find Melany herself. She glanced at the clock on the VCR. It was only 9:30. They'd agreed to wait until 11:00 to hear from her.

Jenny turned her attention to the TV. A movie she'd seen already was on - a spoof on the airport movies from the late 70's. Any other day the sight gags and one liners would have her laughing out loud. Right now the ludicrous hit too close to home. Jenny sighed, reached for her tea, and tried not to think.

"Jenny," Scott said softly. She looked quizzically to her son. His voice had sounded different. He hadn't moved except to open his eyes. Scott's face looked different as well; innocent.

Jenny's eyes grew round with realization. "Paul?" she asked in a near whisper.

"Yes," he said. "Scott's sleeping." Scott's mouth formed the words while the rest of him remained unnaturally still.

Renewed concern registered on Jenny's face. "Are you - both of you - okay? You're hardly moving."

"Yes, for the most part. Scott's very tired and I don't want to wake him. He's been through too much today."

"How is he doing? He's been all bravado all afternoon and evening."

"Mentally and emotionally he's exhausted. We can't block out each other's thoughts. It's difficult for me to deal with and even harder for Scott. Sleep will help with that." Paul paused. He said seriously, "Physically, he's beginning to suffer. He's started to lose weight."

Jenny swallowed hard. "How much longer can he keep this up?"

"A day, perhaps," Paul said. Jenny reacted with alarm. "I won't let it get to that point, Jenny. I'll leave first." A heavy silence hung between them for a few moments. "This was Scott's idea, you know."

"What do you mean?" Jenny asked. She set her tea back on the table untouched.

"When I realized how badly damaged my body was I was going to leave. I didn't want to, but didn't see any other choice. Scott convinced me to work with him to try and heal the injuries. It took our combined knowledge and experience to fix as much as we did, but it wasn't enough. The body is not stable. I can't inhabit it, and it won't survive for more than a day or two as it is now. Knowing that and that I can't clone another body, I was about to say goodbye." Scott's mouth formed a small smile. "That's when Scott offered his body. He insisted even after I explained the risk he'd be taking." The smile grew. "He's more than I ever hoped for, Jenny."

A warm tear splashed on Jenny's hand. Pull yourself together, she told herself as she wiped the moisture from her eyes. "How are you doing?" she asked quietly.

"Okay. I'm tired, but not as drained as Scott." Scott's eyes glanced briefly at his arms and legs. "This feels strange… uncomfortable. I actually miss Paul Forrester's body. A few years ago I wouldn't have cared." He paused. "Eighteen years ago I wouldn't have known how to care. You and Scott have taught me emotion - sadness and fear, happiness and love. Jenny, I've realized how human I've become. It's more than I thought possible."

Scott's eyes turned away. "The worst part is knowing that I'm hurting Scott and scaring you." His eyes glistened as he looked back at her. "I don't want to leave, Jenny. I want to stay here with you and Scott and Zoë. There are so many new people to meet and places to discover. One year together is not enough."

Hot tears ran down Jenny's cheek. "I love you," she whispered. She wanted to hold him and kiss him and tell him it would all turn out right, even if it was an empty promise. However, Jenny knew that all that would do is wake Scott, which wouldn't help a thing. She dried her eyes again and remained in her seat, frustrated.

"I love you, Jennyhayden," Paul said. "Close your eyes." Jenny smiled and did so. She felt Paul's lips touch hers in a long, tender kiss. Jenny felt his breath on her cheek and smelled his scent. Some part of her wondered if it was a memory being replayed, but she didn't care. Paul had given her exactly what she needed at that moment.

A comfortable silence blanketed the room. The chatter of the television brought Jenny back to reality. She read the VCR clock display again - 9:55. Jenny was fed up with waiting; she wanted to do something. She looked impatiently at Paul. He still hadn't changed position in the recliner. Jenny sat forward suddenly. "This is ridiculous, all this waiting. I'm going to go find Melany."

Paul smiled. "You don't have to. Scott already has."

"What are you talking about?"

"Scott's been looking for her in his dreams. He found her in a dance club downtown, The Hoop."

"What?!" Jenny asked incredulously. "Did you teach him how to do that?"

"No," Paul smiled, "I'm going to ask him to teach me. I don't think he's doing it consciously."

"My god," Jenny murmured. She nodded at the TV. "Hollywood should make a movie about you two. I bet it would be a big sci-fi hit."

Paul looked at her skeptically. "I don't think that's such--"

"Just kidding," Jenny smiled.

 

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"Brian's watching you again, Melany," Sara giggled. Melany grinned as she moved with the music. Her long black hair flowed like a silk scarf behind her. "Fine with me," she laughed to her roommate. "He can look all he wants!" Melany was glad that she'd decided to go out with her hallmates at the last minute. She was having a marvelous time on the packed dance floor.

"Aren't you going to go talk to him?" Sara teased.

"Maybe later," Melany said noncommittally. She was enjoying the attention but didn't feel like flirting.

"Mel, you're not married to Scott. You're allowed to talk to other guys," Sara prodded.

Melany was getting annoyed with Sara's nosiness. "I know that! I'll talk to him if I feel like it. Right now I'm happy out here dancing, okay?"

Sara put her hands up in mock surrender. "Okay, I get it! Jeez, I'm just trying to help."

"Thanks," Melany smiled sincerely.

The DJ played one popular song after another. Between two of the songs Melany did a double-take. She thought she saw Scott in his old flannel shirt at the edge of the dance floor. When she looked again he was gone. Great, she thought, I'm so hung up on him that I'm hallucinating. The next song began. Melany soon lost herself in the music.

After two more songs Melany needed a break. She glanced at her watch and she realized she'd been dancing non-stop for an hour and a half. She wiped the sweat from her brow. "I'm a mess!" Melany exclaimed to Sara. "I'm going to the bathroom to wash up."

"I'll come with you," Sara said. As they walked by the crowded bar, they surreptitiously commented on the more attractive guys at the club. A Nordic-looking young man at the bar called to Sara. Sara waved and moved towards him, pulling Melany along with her. Sara introduced them. "Jay, this is my roommate Melany. Jay's in my stats class."

Jay introduced the girls to his friends, and the group chatted for a while. Melany noticed the chemistry between Sara and Jay. She got Sara's attention. "I'll catch up with you later," she said and headed for the bathroom again.

When she reached the women's room the door swung open with a squeak. Six sorority girls pushed past Melany. "Sheesh," Melany muttered and stepped into the empty bathroom. The odor of hairspray, perfume, and cigarette smoke made her nose wrinkle. Melany stepped up to one of the small mirrors above the line of sinks and looked at her reflection. Several strands of hair had come loose from the big barrette holding back her hair. Melany unfastened the barrette, finger combed her hair back, and put the barrette back into place. She turned the cold tap on and splashed water on her face.

As Melany reached for a paper towel she heard a male voice call her name. She looked up into the mirror. Her reflection stared back. "Mel, I need your help." The voice sounded like it was right behind her.

Melany spun around with her heart racing. Scott stood a few feet in front of her wearing his old flannel, jeans, and sneakers. "What the hell do you think you're doing!?" Melany shouted. "Do you think you're funny, following me into the bathroom? You scared the crap out of me!" Her voice echoed hollowly off the tile walls. Water dripped off her face onto her light sweater.

Scott didn't react. He stood there stock-still and pale as a sheet. Melany noticed his drawn features and the dark smudges beneath his hollow eyes. He looked exhausted and ill. Melany remembered him as the picture of health on Halloween. She lowered her voice. "Are you okay, Scott?" she asked sharply.

Scott's dark eyes pleaded with her. "No, Melany, that's why I'm here. My dad and I, we need your help, please!"

Melany's anger and resentment softened. "Are you sick? Have you seen a doctor?" She stepped forward and reached up to feel his forehead. Scott stepped back abruptly. "What's the matter with you?" Melany demanded. "If you're trying be coy, it's not working." She turned around, snatched a paper towel from the dispenser, and dried the few remaining droplets of water on her face. "And quit following me, it's creepy!" she said, looking into the mirror for Scott's reaction. He wasn't there. Melany turned around. Still no Scott. She looked into each of the stalls and down the short hall to the door, but he was nowhere to be found.

Melany fidgeted nervously, wondering what just happened. The bathroom door squeaked open. Three girls entered in mid-conversation. "Uh," Melany said haltingly, "did you see a tall, dark-haired guy just leave?"

The curly-haired brunette of the group arched an eyebrow. "No," she said slowly. "Should we have?" The girls eyed her suspiciously.

"No, no, of course not," Melany said distractedly. Something's wrong, she thought. Melany headed out the door. The girls gave her a wide berth.

Melany made a beeline for the bar. She waved to the bartender. Sara noticed her and joined her with Jay in tow. "Can I use your phone?" Melany asked the bartender. "It's a local call."

"Keep it short," he replied as he handed her the princess phone from behind the bar.

Feeling silly and superstitious, Melany dialed the Forresters' number. "Don't tell me you're calling Scott," Sara said disapprovingly.

"And what if I am?" Melany said coolly. She knew she'd be worried unless she spoke to Scott.

Someone picked up after the first ring. "Hello?" said Jenny in a tense voice.

"Oh, um, hi, Mrs. Forrester, it's Melany. Can I speak to Scott, please?" Sara snorted. Melany glared at her. Jay observed it all with mild amusement.

"Melany, Scott's sick and can't come to the phone," Jenny said deliberately. "He needs to see you right away. Can you come over here?"

Melany's concern turned to alarm. She turned away from Sara and Jay. "No, I don't have a car and the buses don't run to your neighborhood. Mrs. Forrester, what's wrong with Scott?"

"He's very sick, Melany. I'll come pick you up. Where exactly is the Hoop?"

Melany gave Jenny the short set of directions. She grew suspicious. "Mrs. Forrester, how'd you know that I'm here?"

Jenny hesitated on the other end. "It's a long story, Melany. I'll tell you on the way to the house. I'll pick you in front of the club in 15 minutes." Jenny hung up. Melany stared at the phone as she hung up the receiver. She knew she wasn't going to like the story she was soon to hear.

 

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The ring of the phone startled Scott awake. Jenny jumped up from the couch and sprinted into kitchen. Scott strained to hear the conversation but only heard muffled tones. In less than a minute he heard Jenny hang up the phone and grab her keys from the kitchen counter. She strode into the den with her jacket in one hand and her duck boots in the other. "That was Melany," she said excitedly. She dropped the boots on the floor and thrust her stocking feet inside. "I'm going to go pick her up downtown. We'll be back in half an hour." Jenny pulled on her coat and looked at Scott proudly. "Good job, Scott." She crossed the room to the recliner in a few steps and kissed him on the forehead. "Hang in there," she said and darted out the front door.

Scott wasn't completely awake yet, and he felt like a wrung-out dishrag. Nevertheless, the pride, love, agitation, and worry that Jenny's touch had conveyed lingered with Scott. What was that all about? 'Good job, Scott'? And how'd she get in touch with Melany? Scott asked his father.

You found her, Scott, Paul replied. Scott felt pride from him as well.

What are you talking about? I was sitting on my butt here sleeping!

You found her at the Hoop and got her to call.

The Hoop… he dreamt that he'd seen Melany at the Hoop. She'd looked radiant, with her hair swirling around her as she danced. He'd wanted so much to be there with her.

You were there, Scott - a part of you. You asked for her help, and she saw and heard you. Don't you remember? I don't know how you did it, but it worked.

The dream rushed back to Scott. You had nothing to do with that?

Nothing at all. I just watched and wondered, and told your mother where Melany was. Melany called shortly afterwards and confirmed it. Scott felt Paul's curiosity pique. Would you show me how you did it?

Scott laughed aloud. Sure, after I figure it out myself!

Scott recalled the nightmare that had been plaguing him for the past few months. Paul reacted with surprise as Scott remembered it. The dream had predicted the bomb detonating at the parade that morning. Scott berated himself for not keeping them from going to Chicago in the first place.

There's no way you could have known, Paul thought gently. You couldn't tell from that dream exactly when or where that explosion would be. But you did recognize what was happening and got us further away from the explosion. Those few feet probably saved our lives.

Maybe, Scott conceded, but we're not out of the woods yet. He rose stiffly out of the recliner, shivered, and pulled his old flannel shirt close around him. Scott stepped over to the windows and drew the curtain back. The night outside was dark and still. The gibbous moon hovered above the bare limbs of the trees hiding the road. Its pale light reflected off the light frost coating the lawn. The gravel drive curved darkly through the silvery expanse towards the road. A few weeks ago Scott would have contentedly watched the moon's slow arc across the night sky. Tonight he waited impatiently for headlights to cut through the quiet night.

After a few minutes the wagon raced up the driveway. The mounting anticipation Scott felt from Paul mirrored his own. Scott watched from the window until he saw Jenny and Melany emerge from the car and rush towards the house. He opened the front door and the women hurried inside. Jenny greeted him with a hopeful smile, but Melany wore a veiled expression. Scott gulped as he closed the door. Now that Melany was there he wondered what in the world he was going to say.

Jenny looked from Scott to Melany and back again. "I'm going to put some coffee on. Why don't you two have a seat in there," she said, nodding towards the living room. Jenny made a quick exit into the kitchen.

Melany frowned at Scott suspiciously. He squirmed under her scrutiny. He wanted to hold her and tell her how much he missed her. A few days ago he could have done that, but now everything was twisted out of shape. Desperate to end the moment Scott said awkwardly, "Here, let me take your coat."

"You look terrible," Melany said flatly.

"Thanks," Scott retorted automatically. He exhaled loudly in frustration. "Melany, please tell me that my mom explained the situation on the way over here."

"She did."

"Thank god," Scott said. He broke eye contact with Melany and plunged on. "Okay, it's pretty obvious that you don't want to be here. I'm really sorry about the Halloween party and for asking you over here, but I don't know what else to do." He forced himself to look back at her. "I think I can show you my dad's injuries, like when you saw peoples' auras at the jazz festival. We know there's something wrong but can't pinpoint it -- we don't know what to look for." Scott felt tears gathering. He ignored them. "Please help us to try to heal him. I promise I won't bother you again."

Melany's frown softened to concern. "Then it is true," she murmured. She stepped towards Scott and reached a hand towards his face.

Scott leaned back to avoid her touch. "Don't," he warned.

"Why?" Melany asked, surprised.

"You won't like it. You'll feel a lot more than you did at the Halloween party."

Melany lowered her arm and looked at him for a long moment. "That's okay," she said softly, and touched his cheek with her fingertips. Her love and worry coursed into him. She gasped at their contact but didn't pull away.

Scott felt anxiety building in Melany from the onslaught of emotions. He gently grasped her covered forearm and moved her hand away from his face. Their exchange ended abruptly. "I'd never do anything to hurt you, Melany," he said quietly.

"I know," she smiled up at Scott and hugged him. He wrapped his arms around her, drinking in the sweet sagebrush scent of her hair.

After a few moments Melany pulled back and looked up at Scott. "Let's get to it," she said with resolve.

Scott smiled broadly. "All right," he agreed, "but let me tell my mom first." He walked across the small entryway and into the kitchen. Jenny sat at the kitchen table staring absently at the newspaper in her hands. Her coat was draped on the back of her chair, and her boots kicked off under the table.

Melany stepped up alongside Scott. He slipped his arm casually around her waist. "Mom," he said, bringing Jenny from her reverie. Jenny looked at them and smiled. "We're going to see what we can do."

Jenny's smile grew tense. "Mind if I come along?" she asked hesitantly.

Scott looked at Melany questioningly. She shrugged. "Not at all," Scott replied. "Just remember that we're not sure how well this is going to work, if at all."

"I will," Jenny said, sliding her chair back as she stood. Her lips were pressed in a thin, determined line.

The three of them went upstairs into Jenny's and Paul's bedroom. Jenny walked over to the nightstand on Paul's side of the bed and turned on the reading lamp. The yellow light illuminated Paul's body laying on the bed exactly as before. Jenny looked at it sadly, then busied herself by drawing the shades in the room.

Melany stepped up to the bed. She scrutinized the body, checking its heart and breathing rates. She glanced up at Scott and Jenny. "Superficially he seems all right, just a little dehydrated." She turned to Scott. "How do you… examine him?"

Scott joined Melany next to the bed. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Jenny sit on the edge of the wingback chair in the corner of the room. "I've never tried to explain it before," Scott said. He frowned as he searched for words. "Injuries are usually easy to find - they're the source of pain impulses. Otherwise I concentrate on organs or tissues. Healthy tissues have a certain… energy to them. Damaged areas have either very erratic or little energy."

Melany stared at him in wonder. "It'll be easier to understand if I show you," Scott said self-consciously. He pulled his sphere from his pocket and connected with it. Its pale light cast strange shadows on Melany's face. Scott extended his free hand towards Melany. "Ready?" he asked quietly.

"Yeah," Melany whispered and took his hand. She shivered from their contact. Melany radiated nervousness, apprehension, and timid curiosity. Hoping her curiosity would win out, Scott concentrated with his sphere on Paul's lungs.

"This is healthy tissue," he said quietly. Scott felt Melany process the information that he conveyed to her. She was fascinated. Her apprehension waned. Scott smiled and shifted his attention to Paul's heart. "So is this." Melany eagerly took in the information. Her nervousness became excitement.

You said that something's wrong with his brain, Melany thought. Show me part of his nervous system.

Scott was surprised and encouraged by Melany's mental communication. His hopes rose as he shifted his awareness to Paul's spinal cord. This stuff's a lot more complicated. Scott focused on the cells in the spinal cord in the second vertebrae. This part was uninjured. Scott felt Melany recognizing parts of the cells and relating them to the labs she'd done and papers she'd read. After a few seconds he concentrated on the spinal cord protected by the first vertebrae. My dad and I healed this part. The vertebra had shattered. Scott realized that he hadn't shown Melany an example of damaged tissue. This is what it felt like before we fixed it. He conveyed his memory of the ruptured cells, hoping it would be enough. Melany took it in, studying it as well.

Your mom said that he was hit in the back of the head. What part of the brain was injured? The cerebellum? Melany asked. Scott focused on the areas of the brain that had hemorrhaged. He saw the textbook illustrations she was recalling. Melany identified the damaged membranes as parts of the cerebellum and the occipital lobe of the cerebrum. She noted the membranes' energy levels. Show me part of the brain that wasn't damaged - the frontal lobe, maybe?

Scott concentrated on the frontal lobe. Yes, the frontal lobe wasn't touched.

Melany compared the energies of the two areas. They're identical, she thought with dismay.

That's because my dad and I repaired the damage, Scott explained. There'd been a lot of hemorrhaging. We healed the ruptured blood vessels and cleaned up the blood, but the brain's impulses still seem... scrambled.

Scott felt Melany racking her brain for answers. His autonomic system seems to be functioning, she thought, so the brainstem is okay. Is he paralyzed?

No, Paul interjected, signals are getting to the muscles. Surprise and fear coursed from Melany from Paul's sudden thought. Scott felt Melany stifle her anxiety and redirect her attention on the matter at hand.

Paul diplomatically ignored the flurry of emotions and continued. I had to send those impulses to get us to the car, Scott. Scott quickly recalled their struggle out of the alley and to the car for Melany. Scott felt her amazement.

Okay, then the cerebellum is working normally. Melany concluded. Can you detect visual stimuli from the eyes?

I don't know, Paul thought. Scott reached forward and held open the body's right eye. It stared lifelessly with its pupil constricted. Scott's sphere glowed more brightly for a second. Yes, signals are getting through, Paul reported. Scott drew his hand back. The eyelid fell back into place.

Then it's not the occipital lobe that's damaged, either. Melany sighed in frustration. She rapidly recalled papers and discussions from the neurology seminar. Wait a minute, she thought expectantly, you said that the signals were scrambled. Look here. Melany showed them an image of a curved membrane deep in the middle of the brain.

Scott concentrated on the area. Subtle energy differences became apparent in some of the tissues. He focused on one of the low-energy areas. Many of the neurons were dying, and a few were already dead. The other low-energy areas showed more of the same.

That's it! Melany thought with a heady enthusiasm. That's the corpus callosum. It's the connection between the two hemispheres of the brain. Scott marveled at her. Can you fix it? Melany thought.

We can try, Scott replied. He and Paul healed most of the neurons, and left the few remaining ones for the body's immune system to handle. Melany observed their work in amazement.

What caused the tissue damage, Melany? Paul asked. This area didn't hemorrhage. Could more of the cells die?

Melany pondered the question for a few seconds. Since you were hit hard enough to shatter vertebrae, it's probably from cavitation. Cavitation is the formation of tiny bubbles from a rapid change in pressure in the brain. When you got hit, your brain was knocked around inside your skull, creating the pressure change. The bubbles burst when your brain moved back, which damaged some of the tissue. Since you took care of the hemorrhaging, the pressure should be back to normal. There shouldn't be any more damage.

Then that's it? Scott asked incredulously. Dad's going to be okay?

I think so, Melany thought, though you should probably look for other areas that might have been damaged. Scott felt Paul's relief and gratitude eclipse his own.

Melany, you are incredible! Scott thought fervently. He carefully scanned Paul's brain for other injured tissue. He found a few more areas just outside the corpus callosum, which he and Paul quickly mended.

Scott silenced his sphere and let go of Melany's hand. Jenny noticed the movement and looked at them. "What happened?" she exclaimed, jumping out of her chair. "Will he be able to stay?"

Scott beamed at his mother. "Dad's not going anywhere except there," he said, pointing at Paul's body. He turned to Melany with all of the appreciation he felt. "Melany figured out what was wrong. We never would have found it without her."

A jubilant smile spread across Jenny's face. She looked earnestly at Melany. "Thank you," she whispered. She strode over to Melany and Scott and pulled them into a hug.

Jenny's and Melany's thoughts flooded Scott's mind as the exertion of the past several minutes caught up with him. He thought his head was going to explode. Scott broke free and sat heavily on the edge of the bed. The women regarded him with alarm. "I'm sorry," he panted, "it's too much." Scott slumped forward, resting his forearms on his knees.

It's time for me to return, Paul thought. Thank you, Scott, for giving me the chance that no one else could. Scott felt his father's love and gratitude swell, then dissipate as Paul separated from him. His body tingled, then went numb. Despite his lack of feeling, Scott saw Melany and Jenny through the blue luminescence enveloping him. Jenny watched with awestruck appreciation, while Melany gaped wide-eyed.

Suddenly Scott became aware of Paul's absence, like a void in his mind. Feeling returned gradually, and exhaustion washed over him. Out of the corner of his eye he saw his father's true form penetrate the cloned body. Scott fought to stay awake to be sure that the transfer was successful.

After a breathless minute Paul's eyes blinked open. His head turned towards them, and a small version of his familiar smile brightened his face. "You look as though you've seen a ghost," he whispered. Jenny rushed over to Paul and held him close. Scott smiled and rested his head on his folded arms. The last thing Scott felt before he fell asleep was Melany's arms around him.

 

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Scott shrugged his winter coat on as he stepped out on the front porch behind his father. The December morning air was cold and dry. An inch of new snow crunched under their boots and added to the thin layer of snow blanketing the front yard. They walked down the path to the wagon parked in the driveway.

"Are you sure you want to go to Chicago, Dad?" Scott asked skeptically.

Paul smiled at his son's superstitiousness. "Why shouldn't I, Scott? Have you had any dreams about Chicago lately?" he teased.

"No," Scott admitted, kicking at the snow on the gravel drive.

"This is my first book signing - I wouldn't miss it for the world," Paul said. He opened the back door and dropped his camera bag on the seat.

Scott heard the front door of the house open and shut behind him. He turned and saw Jenny in her long wool coat hurrying over to them. "Zoë's finally settling down," Jenny said. "I think she'll sleep for a while, Scott. Thanks for watching her today."

"No problem. She's a good girl, most of the time." Scott said with a smile. "What are you going to do while Dad's attending to his admiring fans?"

"Christmas shopping," Jenny replied. "I'll probably get most of it done today."

Paul shut the car door and joined Scott and Jenny. He looked at his wife affectionately. "Ready to go?"

"Yep," Jenny said. She took Paul's hand.

"See you tonight, Scott," Paul said. "Will Melany be here?"

"Yeah. She's coming over after her last class this afternoon. Have fun in Chicago," Scott told them.

"We will," Jenny assured him. She and Paul moved to the wagon. Jenny opened the front passenger door and paused. "Scott, would you please make sure Zoë's asleep when you go inside?"

"Sure," Scott replied. Jenny and Paul got into the wagon and drove off with a wave.

Inside the house Scott left his snowy boots on the mat near the door and hung up his coat. He bounded upstairs to Zoë's room and opened the door gently. The room was dim and quiet. Sunlight filtered through the drawn shades. Scott stepped over to the crib. His little sister lay sprawled on her back sleeping in one-piece footed pajamas. The blanket was scrunched down by her feet. She's kicked off the blanket already, Scott thought, smiling. He reached for edge of the blanket and noticed something in the corner of the crib. It was a small square package wrapped in green and yellow paper. Scott picked up the lightweight box and examined it curiously. A small white tag was adhered to the top. He recognized Jenny's handwriting on it. "To our son. Love, Mom and Dad" Scott read. Scott sat in the rocking chair and opened the package. He pushed the red tissue paper aside, revealing a worn, wooden puzzle -- his puzzle. Scott laughed with delight. He disassembled and reassembled the three interlocking pieces easily. I wonder where on earth Mom found this? he wondered. Mary must have had it.

Zoë fussed in her crib. Scott tossed the box and wrapping paper on the ground and strode to the crib with the puzzle. Zoë stared up at him with bright blue eyes. Her face twisted as she made an unhappy noise.

"I'm sorry, I woke you," Scott said quietly. "Here, look," he said, holding the puzzle in front of his sister. Zoë's face smoothed. She grasped the toy with her tiny hands. Scott set the puzzle on her stomach. Zoë kicked at the toy with her feet and gurgled happily. "You like it too, huh?" Scott smiled. He watched her grip and release different edges of the wood blocks. "That's way too big for you now," he told her. "You'll figure it out, though, when you're older."

Zoë stopped kicking at the puzzle and yawned unabashedly. Scott smoothed her hair and touched her face as he'd seen Jenny do. "You're tired, admit it," he cooed to her. "Go to sleep." Zoë's eyes slowly shut, and she was asleep soon after. Scott gently retrieved the puzzle and pulled the blanket to Zoë's chin. She continued to slumber.

Scott moved quietly to the door and opened it. He looked at the puzzle in the light from the hall. The soft pine of the blocks was dented and marked in several places. Its corners were rounded from years of handling. Scott stepped back inside Zoë's room to the dresser. Many of Zoë's toys lay on top - an elephant-shaped rattle, a red and white plastic wind-up car, and a stuffed dolphin. Scott set the puzzle next to the dolphin. He looked at his sister sleeping innocently. Your turn, Scott thought. He stepped out of Zoë's room and closed the door behind him.

THE END


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